


Breaking Down Walls

by Diamond_Raven



Category: Original Work
Genre: Breaking Up & Making Up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Original Fiction, Sex Work, Touch Aversion, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 207,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23986384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diamond_Raven/pseuds/Diamond_Raven
Summary: Jake's job as a pastry chef in a high-end restaurant takes up most of his time and he's always dismissed romantic relationships as unnecessary complications. But when his best friend Tom gets hurt, Jake realizes his feelings are deeper than expected and the two of them are slowly drawn into a relationship. Unfortunately, life is never that simple and following the sudden death of his parents, Jake begins a devastating downward spiral that he has no hopes of stopping on his own.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 414
Kudos: 82





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Copyright © 2019 by Diamond_Raven. All rights reserved. This story is free of charge and is not available on any other platforms.  
>   
> 2\. None of the desserts featured in this story are my own creations. I’ll provide links to the recipes in the end notes of the relevant chapters. Please let me know if any links are broken.
> 
> 3\. Please excuse any inaccuracies regarding the workings of a hotel. Some hotel policies had to be changed for plot purposes.  
>   
> 4\. I’ve tagged all the major themes but I don’t provide trigger warnings for minor events. Feel free to email me if you’d like to ask whether specific things take place in this story.

“Chef Seever? The rice puffs chocolate base is ready for your inspection.”

Jake doesn’t look up from the spoon he’s just dipped into the chocolate cremeux. “I’ll be with you in one moment.”

Scooping up a spoonful of cream, he tastes it, carefully assessing if it tastes right. It’s not grainy, it hasn’t split, the color and taste is good and when Jake stirs the spoon through it, he can tell it’s been passed through a sieve properly. Tossing the spoon into the bucket of used tasting spoons, he gives the wide-eyed man standing next to him a nod. “It’s been properly done. Please put it into the fridge to cool.”

“Yes, Chef.”

Turning around, Jake heads for the other pastry assistant, who’s standing by a counter covered in large trays. Glancing at his watch as he goes, he makes a face. As usual, prep time is slipping by way too quickly, but if everybody keeps working hard, they’ll be ready for service.

When he arrives at the trays, the pastry assistant is giving him a nervous smile. “I measured the thickness throughout each one. 1/4 inch, just like you asked.”

He gives her a tight smile. She seems so certain that she’s done it correctly, but Jake knows he’ll find some mistakes. Even if he doesn’t, he still has to double check. If he doesn’t check and a diner ends up with a base layer that’s an unacceptable thickness, it’ll be disastrous.

Pulling out his pack of rulers and protractors, Jake takes out a ruler and gently slides it into the soft mixture of rice puffs and melted chocolate. As always, there’s that small hint of anxiety in his gut; that small voice in his head telling him if the layer isn’t 1/4 inch exactly, that won’t be good and Jake will have to fix it and they’re short on time and he may not be ready for service and he can’t serve the dessert if the layer isn’t 1/4 inch thick and—

The ruler says the base is exactly 1/4 inch. Good. Taking a deep breath, Jake’s anxiety fades a little. Not completely, because he only checked one small part of the tray and he has a lot more work to do. Not measuring isn’t an option because not having the layer be exactly 1/4 inch thick isn’t acceptable. Diners deserve perfection in every bite and not delivering that perfection is unacceptable, especially where dessert is concerned. Dessert is the last thing diners eat and if anything doesn’t look, taste or smell right, that’s what they’ll remember and that’s not acceptable.

He moves to another part of the tray and measures again as his anxiety climbs again and that voice starts up. What if it’s not 1/4 inch? What if Jake can’t fix it quickly? What if his fix takes too long and he won’t be ready for service? What if—

1/4 inch. Soothing relief coats the anxiety that’s been raging in his head…but only for a moment.

He moves the ruler over again and measures as the doubts come flooding back—and his heart nearly stops. It’s 5/16 inch. A shiver runs through him and that voice starts screeching at him: unacceptable, unacceptable, unacceptable! He needs to fix it. And he needs to fix it fast.

Bending over the tray, he gently presses on the rice puffs as he keeps an eye on his trusty ruler until he’s reached the desired 1/4 inch. Relief rushes through him and that voice fades away. Good.

Jake knows others on his team don’t share his desire for perfection and his drive to maintain his standards for every single component of every single dessert he serves, but that doesn’t bother him. It’s important to him and it’s important to the diners and that’s all that matters.

He moves around the trays, carefully measuring the thickness in each one. Each time he sticks the ruler into a new spot, his heart rate rises again and disaster scenarios come streaming into his head. But the pastry assistant did a surprisingly good job and Jake only finds a few spots that are unacceptable. Thankfully, he’s able to fix them all very quickly and when he pulls his ruler out from the final measuring spot, he can’t help but smile. “There were some errors, but it could have been worse.”

He’s learned the hard way to be pleased if his team produces work that only gives him mini heart attacks. Other people either don’t care about his standards or they’re unable to meet them and that’s a sad reality. What he wouldn’t do to clone himself and have a pastry team consisting of just himself and his clones! Unfortunately, he doesn’t have that option. “Put the trays into the fridge to cool and then assist Chef Huang.”

“Yes, Chef.”

Grabbing the first tray, she scurries off to put it into the fridge and Jake takes a moment to glance around the kitchen. As usual, it’s a hive of carefully organized activity, disguised as chaos. Vegetables are being peeled, scallops and shrimp are being removed from their shells, potatoes are being boiled and mashed, large trays of steaks and chicken are being covered in marinade and ovens are being fired up. Chef Liying Huang is at the tall stack ovens and she’s pulling out trays of the hazelnut dacquoise and other cakes, inspecting them and gently pressing on them to see how they feel. At the front, Chef Mitra is putting stacks of plates below the pass, ready for plating. It’s not something a head chef usually does, but Jake has always appreciated that her work ethic closely resembles his own. There’s no task in the kitchen that shouldn’t be done by anybody who has a pair of free hands. Jake’s never tolerated anybody on his team who refuses to do certain work because of their background or experience. The most important people in the restaurant are the diners and anybody who puts their own needs ahead of the diners isn’t somebody who deserves to work at the restaurant.

Everybody’s busy and things seem to be moving along, so it’s time for Jake to return to tempering the chocolate for the toppings and decorations. Going back to his station, he’s pleased to see that all the chocolate has melted and it’s ready for tempering. Lifting the bowl of melted dark chocolate off the pot of boiling water underneath, he pours two thirds of it onto the cool counter. As he’s pouring, Liying comes up to him and sets up the ingredients to prepare the strawberry compote for another dessert on the counter next to him.

“Cindy told me the whore’s back,” she tells him, keeping her voice low enough that nobody can hear.

Grabbing the scraper, Jake spreads the melted chocolate over the counter before grabbing the palette knife and pulling the chocolate back into a pile, scraping the chocolate off the scraper with the knife after every scrape. As soon as it’s in a pile, he spreads it out again, agitating the chocolate and preventing the cocoa butter crystals from forming inappropriate structures. “It’s a little presumptuous of you to assume he’s the only escort in our dining room right now.”

He’s trying to inject some humor into the situation because he’s very tired of having this same discussion almost every night. Liying has always been a combination of annoyed and scandalized by Tom’s presence at the hotel restaurant, ever since she found out what he does for a living. She’s been even more annoyed and scandalized when she’d found out that Jake’s been friends with Tom for a few years.

“I still can’t believe you’re friends with him.”

The chocolate’s spread out again and he scrapes it back into a heap. It’s getting thicker and he can tell by the consistency that the tempering is going well. “This might be news to you, but gay men can be friends. It’s completely legal. Shocking, I know.”

She shoots him an unimpressed look that Jake can feel without even looking directly at her. “That’s not my point and you know it.”

Okay, it seems she’s not in the mood to joke around. Time to end the conversation the same way he does every time she complains about Tom. “I keep telling you that the fact that you don’t understand why I’m friends with him is irrelevant to me. Since you don’t want to be friends with him, it’s not necessary for you to understand my friendship with him.”

She lets out an annoyed sigh as she slices strawberries. “Whatever. I just think it’s weird.”

Lifting the scraper from the chocolate pile, Jake watches the chocolate stream off the metal edge. The chocolate pools in thick ribbons that don’t sink back into the rest of the chocolate, so it’s ready. Scraping it up, he transfers it back into the bowl with the rest of the melted chocolate and stirs it, the old chocolate still warm enough to make the tempered chocolate runny again without ruining the tempering.

Jake’s fairly pleased with how things are going. The tempered chocolate is ready to be shaped into decorations and he’s finished his nightly conversation about Tom. All signs indicate that they’ll be ready for service.

* * *

Shifting in his seat, Tom pastes a nervous smile on his face and lifts his hands to tug on his tie; his suit jacket shifting uncomfortable due to being several sizes too large for him.

His client shoots him a gentle smile. “Don’t be so nervous.”

Tom lets out a shaky laugh, darting his wide eyes around the restaurant. “I ain’t ever eaten in a fancy place like this, sir.”

The older man chuckles gently. “They don’t have places like this where you’re from, huh?”

“Oh, no, sir. My momma and daddy would take me and my brothers out to the diner a few times a year and that was a real treat,” he says, careful not to overdo the country drawl he’s using. “But the diner looked nothing like this. This place is real fancy. I can’t believe the prices on the menu! The things cost more than one of my daddy’s monthly pay.”

His client’s grinning, his eyes sparkling as he puffs himself up proudly. “Don’t worry about any of that. You’ll love what I ordered you, I promise.”

Smiling shyly, Tom fiddles with the forks on the table. “I’m sure I will, sir.”

It never fails to amuse him that many of his clients want to relive the same fantasy over and over again. He’s played the ‘virgin-picked-up-by-older-rich-man’ fantasy with this client dozens over times over their monthly meetings, but the older man never seems to get tired of it. Tom does his best to change up his lines and actions to make it more challenging for himself. It’s one of the many things he loves about his job.

Back when he’d been waiting tables and struggling to make it as an actor, he’d be lucky to get cast as an extra who just walks around for hours or a small part in a commercial where he’d stand there and smile. Tom had hated struggling to make ends meet and it had frustrated him that he never got to do any challenging acting roles. When he’d learned that people could make very good money by being escorts, he’d jumped into it. The job combines two things he loves: acting and having sex, and it pays so well that it’s allowed him to leave his middle-class background behind and step into a world that he never even dreamed of.

The only downside to his job is that he can’t be honest about it to his parents, but that’s a small price to pay. He’s been able to pay off his parents’ debts and move them into a nicer house and he doesn’t have to lie to them very much if he keeps things vague. Going out to dinner with clients and trying to act in a way that the client likes is a normal part of most business people’s lives, so he just has to skip over mentioning the sex part, which is something he’d never discuss with his parents anyway.

Shaking up his lines and actions while adhering to the basics of the scenario his clients request also keeps things interesting for his clients, which is something they love about him. It’s one of the reasons they’re willing to pay his high fees over and over again, even if their main requests remain the same from session to session.

The waitress appears next to him and carefully puts down their plates of food. It smells as delicious as it always does and Tom’s mouth waters when he sees the beautifully plated filet mignon and the carefully placed vegetables and sauce on the plate. Despite eating at the restaurant multiple times a week, the chefs do a good job of coming up with new dishes and he never gets tired of eating here.

As he picks up his fork, he mentally apologizes to the beautiful plate of food, especially the filet mignon. They should be eaten with the same respect that they were cooked and plated with, but he has a role to fill.

Grinning with eager anticipation, he launches into a new little act he’d only thought of last night as he wraps his fist around his fork and stabs it into the center of the filet mignon. Lifting it up, he’s about to take a bite out of it, when he pauses dramatically and stares at his client, who has picked up his fork and knife. Widening his eyes, Tom puts the fork and chunk of meat back down, frowning with what he hopes is a panicked look on his face.

His client’s grinning, no doubt loving that added touch. “Just do what I do, sweetheart. Knife in the right hand, fork in the left.”

Making a big show out of grabbing the utensils properly, Tom stares wide eyed at his client as he demonstrates how to use the utensils properly before Tom slowly copies him, trying to add enough clumsiness into his actions to make it believable. When he slides the first bite of filet mignon into his mouth, the pleased sound that comes out is completely genuine. It practically melts in his mouth.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” The man asks, smiling happily.

“I ain’t ever tasted nothing this good before in my life, sir,” Tom purposefully mumbles through a full mouth, grinning as he chews loudly and mentally apologizes to the diners around him who have to witness his horrible dining etiquette.

His client chuckles again, looking thrilled. “Try the wine with it.”

That’s when Tom struggles not to let the smile slide off his face. He really adores the old man, but he seems to have a palate made out of stone. Every single time they eat together, the man purposefully orders the most expensive wine on the menu, with no regard to how the wine pairs with the food he orders for them.

Swallowing his mouthful, Tom reaches for his wine glass and takes a sip. The crisp, light white wine would taste wonderful if he were eating a fresh salad or a white fish, but the taste clashes horribly with the rich, heavy filet mignon. Oh, what he wouldn’t do to swap it out for a Pinot Noir. But pretending to enjoy the horrible wine and food pairings that his client makes is part of what he’s getting paid for, so Tom keeps a smile on his face. “Oh, that tastes real good!”

“I knew you’d like it. Just wait for dessert!”

Tom widens his eyes as he puts his wine glass down. “I get dessert too?”

His surprise is completely faked. Years ago, he’d added a condition into any dinner dates that he’ll get dessert—preferably chocolate—no matter the occasion. It makes his sweet tooth happy and it’s always a wasted opportunity to come to the hotel restaurant without finishing with one of Jake’s amazing desserts. He knows Jake’s in charge of the chocolate dessert that’s currently on the menu and he’d only added it to the menu yesterday, so Tom can’t wait to taste it.

* * *

“Chef Seever, Chef Huang, you’re up!” Chef Mitra calls from the pass.

“Yes, Chef!” Jake and Liying both call back.

“Table 13, one strawberry fraisier. Table 7, two chocolate cremeux cakes.”

“Yes, Chef!”

Jake struggles not to grin. Table 7 is Tom’s table and of course, he’d ordered the chocolate dessert. Tom has that amusing clause in his contracts with clients that he always gets a chocolate dessert as part of his meal if eating together is part of the session, which Jake finds very funny.

Having a variety of different desserts is necessary to give diners as many options as possible, but Jake always takes special care to add a chocolate-heavy dessert to the menu, just for Tom. It makes Tom happy and making his best friend happy also keeps Jake happy.

He still marvels over the fact that he’s allowed to call Tom his best friend. He’s never had a best friend before. The friends he had when he was a teenager were all short-lived relationships. They focused more on partying and spending their parents’ money, while Jake preferred to focus on his studies and perfecting his cooking skills. Tom’s work ethic closely resembles Jake’s and neither of them ever demand that the other person prioritize their friendship over their work responsibilities, which is perfect.

After heading to the fridge and taking out two pieces of the chocolate cremeux desserts that had been chilling, he brings them to the counter on a tray. Before anything else, he has to make sure they’re still the right dimensions. Sometimes the cooling process makes the dessert shrink, or layers become compressed. His heart starts to race as he pulls out his ruler and that voice starts up again. What if the layers aren’t the right thickness? What if all of them are a disaster? There’s no way to redo this dessert at this stage of service and it’ll be a disaster if they can’t serve them.

Clutching his ruler and taking a shaky breath, he bends down next to the first dessert and carefully measures it, a litany of ‘please be right, please be right, please be right’ playing in his head.

The base is 1 1/2 inches wide and 3 inches long. Perfect. A gentle wave of relief drifts over the loud hysteria in his head. It’s not a lot of relief because he still has a lot to check, but it’s a good start.

Then he checks the height of each layer. The crispy base made from chocolate and rice puffs is still 1/4 inch thick. Perfect. The layer of chocolate cremeux is also still 1/4 inch thick, despite the weight of the hazelnut dacquoise piece sitting over it. Jake smiles, feeling proud of himself. It had taken hours of practice, but he’d figured out exactly how much cremeux he had to add so the weight of the dacquoise would compress it to be exactly 1/4 inch thick. Lastly, the dacquoise is also 1/4 inch thick, which means the layers are acceptable.

Letting out a relieved breath, Jake clutches his ruler and smiles. Now further assembly can begin. Opening his box of tempered chocolate rectangles that he’d previously cut, he takes one out and re-measures it to make sure it’s still perfect. 1/16 inch thick, just like when he’d spread the melted chocolate on the acetate to cool. Then he checks the length and width to verify the cuts he’d made when portioning the cooling chocolate into rectangles. 1 1/2 inches wide and 3 inches long. Perfect.

Gently placing the chocolate rectangle on top of the dacquoise, he uses his ruler to nudge it perfectly in line with the rest of the layers. Once he’s satisfied, it’s time for the chantilly cream. Picking up the piping bag full of chocolate cream, he positions the nozzle right above the dessert and gently presses the bag, watching the chocolate cream ooze out of the round nozzle and spread over the dessert. He continues pressing until the cream is taking up exactly 1/6 of the space on top of the dark chocolate rectangle. When he’s satisfied, he stops squeezing and carefully lifts the bag until the chocolate stream breaks and flops over on top of the cream dot. Moving across the surface of the chocolate, he adds five more dots, ensuring they’re perfectly symmetrical and at even intervals. When he’s satisfied, he adds another chocolate rectangle on top, gently nudging it into place so it lines up precisely.

Then it’s time to re-measure everything again, just in case. He uses his ruler to check that the base, cremeux and dacquoise are still 1/4 inch thick—just in case any compression happened—and then he verifies that the chantilly cream is at 1/2 inch height.

Unfortunately, the cream is sitting at 5/8 inch. That hysterical voice erupts in his head again and Jake’s breath catches, but he clenches his jaw and forces himself to stay calm. He’s encountered this situation before and he knows it’s an easy fix. Gently pressing down on the chocolate rectangle on top, he holds his ruler against it and stares intently at the numbers until the cream is exactly 1/2 inch height. Letting out a long breath, Jake smiles as that panic subsides again. Crisis averted.

Lastly, time for decoration. Using his ruler and the chantilly cream, he pipes a precisely sized dot of cream on the chocolate rectangle top. Opening the box of chocolate coils that he’d made, he picks up a coil of chocolate—the distance between each coil being exactly 1/16 inch—and uses his protractor to ensure that the coil is set on the cream dot at an exact 45 degree angle.

Using his ruler again and picking up a bag of chantilly cream with a much smaller nozzle, he places three precise dots of cream on the other half of the chocolate rectangle, measuring the distances between them and from the edge of the chocolate to get them in a precise triangular shape. If one of the dots is even slightly off, he quickly wipes it off and starts again, trying to ignore the way his stomach is clenched into knots at having made the mistake in the first place.

Moving onto the rest of the plate, he measures and pipes small dots of cream in precise spots on the white plate, using his protractor and ruler to get everything in the exact spots he wants. If he makes a mistake, he hurries to wipe it away and start over, trying to focus while his anxiety rages at him for having made the mistake and potentially creating a disaster. He decorates the rest of the plate with chocolate coils, measuring the distances between the components to ensure everything’s perfect.

As he works, he keeps glancing at his watch to ensure he’s making good time. While diners deserve only perfectly plated desserts from him, Jake knows that waiting for ages to get dessert isn’t good either. That’s why he spends hours practicing how to plate new desserts that he creates so he’ll be able to complete the process in an appropriate time frame.

Liying works next to him, putting together the components of the strawberry fraisier dessert. Back when they started working together, she would constantly bother Jake, telling him to hurry up and wanting to help him, but that had only led to them snapping at each other and taking twice as long.

Now, they each stick to plating their own desserts and Jake can meet the standards he needs to meet for his own dessert and Liying can stick to her own standards for hers. It does bother Jake that Liying won’t let him plate her desserts, since Jake hates the idea of diners getting imperfect desserts, but that’s something Chef Mitra has told him he needs to live with.

When he’s done the first dessert, he moves onto the second one, measuring and piping as he goes to create another perfect version of his dessert. There’s no better feeling than bringing his two plates up to the pass and knowing they’re going out to diners who will appreciate his attention to detail and the care he put into making everything perfect. The fact that one of these desserts will go to Tom makes it extra pleasing.

* * *

Once services is done, they clean up and prepare new batches of chantilly cream that will chill in the fridge until tomorrow. They also collect all of the leftover food they hadn’t served and load it onto large trays, which will get taken down to the hotel’s staff cafeteria to be part of tomorrow’s staff meals. Whatever the staff don’t eat gets donated to an organization that feeds the homeless in the city. Despite not having any control over how the rest of this food will be presented to the people who will eat it, Jake loves the idea that people will get to enjoy the food he helped to prepare and not one bite of it will go to waste.

When they’re all done, Jake grabs a plate of chocolate cremeux cake that he’d prepared and heads home.

As usual, he takes off his white chef’s jacket before he exits through the staff entrance of the restaurant. Walking up to his room takes a lot longer if guests know he’s an employee at the hotel and not just a random guest because it makes him an easy target for dozens of questions that he’s too tired to answer. Being rude is unacceptable, not just because it’s impolite but also because the hotel belongs to his parents so taking off his chef’s jacket is the best option.

Wandering through the lobby, he greets the night shift manning the front desk and takes the elevator up to his floor. The elevator and his floor are usually quiet by this time of night and he reaches his room without having to talk to anybody. Taking his key card out, he lets himself inside.

The first thing he does is go to his kitchen and put the plate of dessert into the fridge for tomorrow morning, then he gets ready for bed. Tossing his clothes into his laundry basket, he heads for a shower, then gets changed into pajamas and drops onto his bed, grabbing his cellphone from the bedside table.

He never brings his phone into service. It’s rude and distracting and it’s something he insists on for the rest of his team.

When he turns on his phone, he smiles when he sees multiple messages from Tom. As usual, Tom took a picture of his beautiful chocolate cremeux dessert plate and added a bunch of smiley faces after it. The next message is just Tom telling him he’s done with his session, which means Jake’s free to text him. He doesn’t hesitate before typing out his first message.

‘ _Did you like the dessert?’_

Tom responds within a minute. _‘It was beautiful and delicious, as usual! I loved the crispy base and the dark chocolate was a nice touch. Nice balance of flavors and texture.’_

Grinning, Jake sighs softly, feeling proud of himself. He loves coming up with new dessert ideas and working in the kitchen is wonderful, but it’s so nice to hear that other people really love what he makes. His desserts are popular enough that some diners come into restaurant just to have dessert after having eaten elsewhere, and his reputation for producing gorgeous plates of delicious treats is something he treasures. He sends back a _‘Thank you!’_ , then asks how the rest of Tom’s dinner went.

‘ _I was with Virgin Guy.’_

Jake makes a face, knowing what that means. That means Tom spent a few hours wearing an ill fitting suit and having to choke down wine that doesn’t go with whatever he’s eating. _‘What torture did he subject your palate to this time?’_

After Tom tells him what wine the man had paired with their filet mignon, Jake shudders. “Yuck. Oh, my God. What a waste of a good piece of meat.” He types that out and sends it to Tom, who heartily agrees.

They chit-chat for a while, talking about their days and what they’re going to do tomorrow.

When their friendship had first started, Jake hadn’t been enthusiastic about Tom’s desire to text him in the evenings, but to his surprise, he’s grown to enjoy their conversations. Even if he’s tired, he’d rather lose a little bit of sleep and talk to Tom for a while, and that’s something he’s never felt in his previous friendships. Overall, it’s a fantastic way to end his day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recipe Links: [Chocolate Cremeux Cake](https://www.howtocookthat.net/public_html/chocolate-cream-cake/) and [Strawberry Fraisier](https://www.howtocookthat.net/public_html/strawberry-fraisier-dessert-recipe/)


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Jake wakes up a few minutes before his six o’clock alarm is set to go off and heads into his ensuite bathroom to get ready for the day. Once he’s changed, he opens his bedroom door and is greeted with the same sight he sees nearly every single day: Chesa, the Filipino housekeeper who’s assigned to his floor, sitting at his kitchen island and eating the chocolate cremeux dessert he’d put into the fridge for her the night before. “Good morning, Chesa.”

She glances up from scrolling on her phone and licking her fork. “Good morning, Jake. How you sleep?”

Smiling, he wanders into the kitchen and opens the fridge to take out eggs, cheese and vegetables to make his breakfast omelette. “Very well, thank you.”

“Good. Cake is very yummy, thank you.”

That makes his smile grow into a grin as he puts his things onto the island counter and gets a cutting board. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it.”

“Mm hmm.”

“Did anything interesting happen this morning?” he asks, grabbing a cutting knife and a ruler from the drawer.

“Henry put bags in wrong car.”

Chuckling, Jake brings a tomato over to the sink to wash it. “Oh, my God. Did he notice before they drove off?”

“No. Only notice when other guest come outside and start yelling. I hear from lobby. Cecilia call guest and say come back, you have wrong bags.”

Laughing, Jake brings his tomato to the cutting board and slices it in half. Putting the flat side down, he lines up his ruler and carefully makes slices that are exactly 1/16 inch wide. Much like his diners, Jake appreciates symmetry and perfection in the food he eats too. Maybe other people wouldn’t care about their tomato slices all being different shapes and sizes, but Jake certainly cares.

When it comes to food, perfection is an achievable goal to always strive towards.

* * *

On Thursday, Jake eagerly keeps an eye on the time, desperate for service to be over. Being in the kitchen is one of his favorite places in the world, but it slipped to second place after he’d started doing sessions with Tom. Now, those twice a week sessions are something he looks forward to even more than being in the kitchen.

Once service is done and everything’s cleaned up, Jake hurries upstairs to get changed and cleaned up. Tom has very strict rules for cleanliness, ones which Jake is fully supportive of. When he’s ready, he gets dressed and opens up the safe hidden in his closet. The safe is filled with neat stacks of $3000, ready to go. Grabbing one, he stuffs it into one of the envelopes sitting next to the stacks and slams the safe shut.

Sliding his key card into his pocket, he walks out of his room and takes the few steps that bring him to the room next door. He’s barely started knocking on the door when Tom opens it, grinning at him. “Hey. That was quick.”

Jake smiles. “Yes, we had fewer covers than normal.”

Tom laughs and steps aside to let Jake inside. “So nice when other people respect that you have important places to go on Thursdays, huh?”

Jake chuckles and hands Tom the envelope of cash. “It would be nicer if they always respected that on Mondays and Thursdays, but that’s wishful thinking.”

Tom laughs harder. “Keep dreaming, Seever.”

* * *

Half an hour later, Jake’s naked and kneeling in front of the big armchair in Tom’s bedroom. Tom’s equally naked and sitting on the chair, his legs spread wide as Jake carefully sucks on the head of his cock, the condom already slick and wet.

Tom lets out a soft moan. “That’s good, Jake. When you’re settled into it, start using your hand.”

Oh, right. Jake mentally berates himself for having forgotten about his hands. Again. One of his hands is wrapped around the base of Tom’s hard cock while the other is cupping his balls, but he’d be so focused on sliding his mouth up and down the small part of Tom’s cock that he can manage without gagging that his hands have stayed frozen.

Come on, Seever! They’ve been practicing this for weeks and Jake should be better at it by now. The fact that he still requires correction on things he’s been practicing for a while is embarrassing. Frowning, he keeps sliding his lips up and down Tom’s cock, letting it fill his mouth while he gently begins massaging Tom’s balls. But when he also tries twisting his hand that’s around Tom’s cock, his lips stop moving and go slack, because he appears to have lost the ability to multi-task.

“Okay, stop, stop, stop.” Tom gently pushes him off his cock.

Flushing with embarrassment at his failure, Jake drops his gaze. He can’t believe he’s doing so badly!

But Tom catches his hands and gently squeezes them before he grabs Jake’s chin and lifts his face to look up at him. “Stop it. I know what you’re thinking and you’re being too hard on yourself. You were doing really well, until you tried doing too many things at once.”

Jake lets out an annoyed sigh. Thankfully, Tom just looks kind and understanding, which helps push back Jake’s embarrassment, but it just leaves annoyance. “Then maybe you need to do a better job of giving me instructions. You said to use my hands and I did, but it’s difficult.”

“Of course it is! You’ve been doing this for a couple of weeks and you need to be more patient with yourself. If something’s not working, then you need to stop and make adjustments.”

Sighing again, Jake thinks about it. Tom’s right. It’s foolish to put so much pressure on himself. Maybe he’ll never be great at this, but pushing himself too hard won’t result in him gaining confidence, and Tom’s told him a million times that confidence is one of the key parts of giving a good blow job. But Tom had mentioned making adjustments and that’s a doable objective. “Can I just do small movements with my hands?”

“Sure. Or alternate which hand is doing what. Or decrease the difficulty level of what your mouth is doing when your hands are doing something more complex. Remember what we talked about: consistent stimulation is what’s important, not necessarily doing the same thing from start to finish.”

Taking a deep breath, Jake shifts on his knees. “Okay, let me try again.”

Tom releases his chin and sits back. “Take your time.”

Gently wrapping his hands around Tom’s balls and the base of his cock again, Jake licks over and around the head a few times, moistening the condom again before slipping Tom’s cock back into his mouth, sucking gently. When he’s gotten accustomed to the presence of Tom’s cock in his mouth again, he gently slides up and down, keeping his lips sealed around it and flattening his tongue against the underside.

Tom lets out a soft sound and when Jake glances up, Tom’s smiling down at him. “That’s good. Nice recovery, I’m proud of you.”

Hearing those words makes Jake’s lips curl into as much of a smile as he can manage with his mouth full and he tries sliding a little further down on each pass, but stops before he reaches the point where he knows he’ll be gagging. Despite not being very good at this yet, Jake really enjoys the weight and feel of Tom’s cock in his mouth. It’s also amazing to hear Tom make different sounds, all because of what Jake’s doing to his cock with his mouth and hands.

When he’s settled into a good rhythm with his lips, he decides to add his hands back in, but at a smaller scale than before. Rather than twisting his entire hand around Tom’s cock, he decides to just rub his thumb up and down the underside, keeping pace with the movement of his lips. When he slides down, his thumb slides up. When he slides up, his thumb goes down.

A soft moan from Tom lets him know that was a good decision and Jake’s confidence starts to return. Glancing up, he sees that Tom’s dropped his head back against the chair and he’s staring down at Jake with half-lidded eyes, his lips parted as he gasps softly. “You’re doing really good. That feels so good.”

A warm glow lights up in his chest and Jake carefully continues his rhythm, sliding up and down Tom’s cock with his lips and thumb, until he decides to add his other hand into it too. Right when his thumb is about to slide up Tom’s cock again, Jake shifts his hand holding Tom’s balls and rubs his thumb up the sensitive skin between his balls.

“Oh! Oh, fuck—that feels good,” Tom gasps out and his legs twitch.

Jake quickly settles into the rhythm. His lips slide down Tom’s cock, his tongue dragging along the thin condom as both his thumbs slide up his cock and balls. When he’s reached that certain point, he slides back up, dragging his thumbs back down.

Tom’s moaning and gasping and he’s stared to tremble as he stares down at him, his knuckles white where he’s clutching both armrests. “You’re amazing, Jake. You’re doing so good. Making me feel so good. You have no idea how good your mouth feels on my cock. And your hands—fuck—your hands. That feels amazing.”

Arousal tingles through Jake and his own cock is beginning to throb a bit, getting turned on by how nice Tom’s cock feels and how amazing it is to watch Tom reacting like this to something Jake’s doing to him. He’s so proud of himself and his earlier embarrassment is far behind him.

Eventually, Tom squeezes his eyes shut. “Okay…let’s stop.”

Jake actually doesn’t want to stop and he whines softly and keeps sucking, wanting to stay where he is.

Tom pries his eyes open and smiles down at him. “We’re rapidly turning you into a cock slut, huh? But I’m serious, Seever. If you wanna get fucked for a while, you gotta stop cause I’m really gonna come.”

That makes Jake pull off his cock as he grins up at Tom. “Really? You could come from me doing that?”

“Oh, definitely! And one of these days, I’m gonna show you. I’ll need time to recover after that, but I’d fuck you with my toys until I’m ready to go again.”

That sends a jolt of heat up his back and Jake can’t help the shiver that runs through him.

Tom chuckles and reaches down to gently pull Jake’s hands off his cock and balls. “Yeah, you’re not excited about that at all, huh? Not one bit. Come on, get on the bed and let’s get you fucked.”

Already ridiculously turned on, Jake scrambles off the floor and lies down on the bed on his hands and knees, spreading his knees wide open as he drops down on his forearms. His hole twitches with anticipation, his cock is aching and he just really needs to get fucked.

Tom doesn’t disappoint him. Within seconds, the bed dips and one of Tom’s warm hands rubs over his ass, while two slick fingers circle his rim and slide in, filling him up. Jake lets out a low moan and immediately thrusts back on the fingers, clenching rhythmically around them. For some reason, having Tom finger him always feels so new and exciting, despite them having done this hundreds of times.

Before Tom had accepted him as a client, Jake’s sexual history had been very limited. He’d discovered the joys of anal sex as a teenager due to a combination of his parents traveling a lot and unrestricted internet access. Once he’d figured out how to play with his ass and all the neat things his cock could do, he became a very happy man. He’d never been interested in dating other people, but he’d always wondered what having sex with other people would be like so he’d gone to a few night clubs specifically to look for temporary partners. The situations had been adequate in terms of providing him with experience but he hadn’t enjoyed the atmosphere or the hygiene standards he’d been subjected to. Unfortunately, his partners would get offended or annoyed if Jake made specific demands of them and it quickly occurred to him that the best solution would be to hire somebody to have sex with him. That way, he could dictate where, when and how they would have sex.

Choosing Tom as his paid sexual partner turned out to be even better than Jake imagined. Not only was the sex exactly what Jake enjoys, but he’d also found the best friend he’d always wished for.

Tom chuckles warmly from behind him. “Your ass is a little eager tonight, huh? Here, have two more.”

When Tom slides four fingers into him, stretching his sensitive rim, it sends sparks shooting through him and Jake lets out a loud whine as he thrusts back on the fingers. His hard cock twitches, as turned on as the rest of him.

“Fuck, I could watch you fuck yourself on my fingers all damn day,” Tom murmurs. “You could come just from this, couldn’t you? Maybe that’s what we’ll do on a day when you suck my brains out through my cock. Instead of toys, you’ll just fuck yourself on my fingers until you come. I won’t even touch your cock, you’ll do it all yourself.”

That mental image makes Jake’s breath catch and he shudders hard, whining as he thrusts back harder. He knows he can come just from fingering himself, but fucking himself on Tom’s fingers would be so much better.

But thankfully, Tom’s willing to give him something even better than his fingers and after gently pulling his fingers out, the head of Tom’s condom covered cock presses at his loose rim and his thick cock slides right in, filling Jake up with warmth and thickness that no toy can ever replicate.

Crying out at how good it feels, Jake turns his head to the side so he doesn’t suffocate in the sheets and clutches them in his hands, shoving his ass back against Tom’s cock as Tom gently thrust into him. When he can tell that Jake’s ready, Tom grips his hips hard and settles right into the hard pace that Jake loves—pounding into him and keeping his cock deep as his hips slap Jake’s ass, warming the skin.

“Fuck, you feel so damn good. Your ass was made for my cock. Fuck, I hope you know that. How—how the hell does this always feel so damn good?”

Tom’s grip on his hips gives Jake enough freedom that he can keep thrusting back, easily matching Tom’s rhythm and keeping Tom’s cock right where he wants it. Closing his eyes, Jake loses himself in the waves of arousal pulsing through him as heat builds in his stomach, keeping his cock hard and throbbing. He’s shaking, his hands clutching the sheets so hard that he’s in danger of tearing them, but he couldn’t care less.

Just as Tom had promised him, he keeps going for ages. Sometimes he’ll stop and pull out just long enough to flip Jake over onto his back or tell him to kneel up by the headboard and brace himself. But no matter what, Jake’s never empty for long because Tom always slides right back into him, fucking him hard and deep.

Eventually, Tom has Jake on his back again and he deliberately changes angles so he’s nailing Jake’s prostate—and that’s when Jake becomes a twitching, sweaty, gasping mess and he’s clutching the bed sheets again, his legs around Tom’s shoulders as Tom fucks him hard, pounding into his prostate and sending intense jolts of arousal through him. When Tom reaches for Jake’s cock, he barely has to touch it before Jake’s tensing up and he’s coming with a choked cry as Tom fucks him through it, grinning down at him and praising him.

When Jake’s done, Tom thrusts in and out a few more times before he’s letting out a soft sound and tensing and Jake knows he’s coming too. It always makes him smile when Tom orgasms. He still can’t get over how special it feels to have sex with another person, somebody with their own cock and their own hands and their own sounds and Jake gets to share such an intimate moment with them.

When Tom’s done, he slowly pulls out and gently drops Jake’s legs on the bed while he strips off the condom. When he’s done, he collapses on the bed next to Jake and they both sprawl out, their breathing gradually slowing as the sweat on their skin cools and their bodies calm down.

“How was that?” Tom mumbles.

Jake shrugs, a cheeky smile tugging on his lips. “Adequate. Not really worth the money I paid, but it’ll do.”

It’s an old joke and he’s fully prepared for Tom swinging a pillow that smacks him on the chest as Jake laughs.

Tom’s laughing as he throws a mock-glare Jake’s way. “Oh, you’re not satisfied yet, huh? You wait until my limbs aren’t jello and I’m gonna shove a prostate massager up your ass and make you come three more times. You won’t be able to string a sentence together by the time I’m done, never mind complain about anything. I guarantee it.”

Jake can’t help the shiver that runs through him. Tom’s used the massager on him before and it’s an amazing device. He’d never known that he could orgasm multiple times in a row, just from having his prostate stimulated. He’d always assumed orgasms were tied to his cock and ejaculation and it had been a thrilling experience when Tom had taught him that wasn’t the case.

He’s tired, but he’s also still turned on. Since Tom’s waiting for his response, Jake turns his head and quirks an eyebrow at him. “Oh, you guarantee it, do you?”

Tom’s grinning at him, his eyes sparkling. “Absolutely.”

Jake matches his grin. “I’ll believe it when I see it. Or rather—feel it.”

And those are the words Tom’s been waiting for, because he leaps up and heads towards his box of sex toys. “Oh, you just wait, Seever!”

* * *

A few weeks later, the atmosphere in the kitchen is even more tense than it usually is because Jake’s parents are seated at the chef’s table, right in the kitchen. They usually spend their time traveling around to their hotels that are spread around the world and they always take the time to socialize with everyone, making the guests feel welcome and the staff feel appreciated. For Jake, it’s always extra special for his parents to be eating in the restaurant because he gets to serve them dessert himself.

After Chef Mitra calls out the dessert orders for the chef’s table, Jake can’t keep the smile off his face as he gets to work, making two perfect plates of dessert for his parents. The plates don’t look any different than the other plates he prepares, but it’s such a joy to serve his desserts to his parents.

His mom loves panna cotta, so Jake had specifically put a panna cotta dessert onto the menu for this week, knowing she’d be in town.

Taking two small glasses half-filled with smooth vanilla panna cotta out of the cooler, he uses tweezers to add precisely cut 1/16 inch cubes of pineapple on top in a perfect pyramid shape before placing a delicate isomalt disc on top of the glass. Lastly, he transfers one of the very fragile mango lime spheres to the top of the disc, using his ruler to ensure it’s placed precisely in the center of it. Lastly, he places a small piece of edible gold foil on top of the sphere, then it’s time for the most important part.

Heading to the freezer, he pulls out two of the gorgeous tear-dropped shaped ice sculptures that he’d made earlier. Using a blow torch, he’d melted a 4 inch diameter hole in the side of each sculpture, which allows him to carefully transfer the glasses of panna cotta inside. Once the glasses are sitting inside the structure and he’s decorated the plate with precisely placed pieces of pineapple cubes and dots of mango sauce, the plates are ready for presentation.

Glancing down at himself, he makes sure his jacket doesn’t have any obvious stains on it before he picks up both plates and walks over to his parents, who are both smiling as he approaches. Placing one plate in front of his mom and the other in front of his dad, he straightens up and clasps his hands behind his back, the picture of professionalism.

“Mr and Mrs Seever, tonight I have for you vanilla panna cotta topped with fresh pineapple and an isomalt disc garnish topped with a mango lime sphere.”

His mom’s eyes are huge as she stares at her plate. “Oh, honey, it looks gorgeous!”

His dad is studying the ice sculpture with wide eyes. “How on earth did you make this ice structure?”

Jake grins. “Balloons. I filled them up with water and hung them in the freezer. The hanging gives the ice the teardrop shape. Once I peeled the balloon off, I used a blow torch to make the hole in the side and the remaining water inside drained out.”

“It looks fantastic! As usual, it’s too beautiful to eat.”

His mom chuckles warmly and holds out her hand, urging Jake to give her his hand so she can squeeze it. “This is wonderful, honey. And I can’t help but notice the panna cotta.”

Jake grins. “Would you believe me if I said it was a coincidence?”

She laughs and jostles his hand. “Not at all. Thank you so much for adding it on just for me. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.”

His dad’s carefully pulling the glass out of the ice sculpture. “But now for the big question: how do I eat it without ruining?”

Jake chuckles. “Unfortunately, the flavor combination I wanted to bring across can only be tasted if you mix it all together.”

His dad sighs softly, but he’s smiling. “So I have to ruin this beautiful thing? I don’t think I can do it.”

“Would you like me to do it for you?”

His dad laughs and holds up his spoon. “Better you than me. I couldn’t bear doing it.”

Laughing, Jake drops his mom’s hand and takes the spoon, carefully lining up the edge of it above the delicate mango sphere before bringing the spoon down and cracking through the isomalt disc and breaking the fragile mango sphere, sending shards of isomalt and streams of mango and lime sauce cascading down into the glass to mix with the pineapples and vanilla cotta. “There you go.”

His dad sighs sadly. “Such a shame.”

“Consider it this way, Brian,” his mother says with a smile. “You enjoyed it with your eyes, now you can enjoy it with your taste buds.”

Jake grins. “Exactly.”

“That’s a very good point,” his dad muses, a smile on his lips. “And I’m sure it’ll taste even better than it looks, as impossible as that is to imagine.”

His mom has cracked through the disk and she’s already loading up her first spoonful, making sure she gets a little bit of everything on the spoon. “Alright, everybody quiet. I need to enjoy my first bite.”

Jake watches eagerly as she takes her first bite, but from the way her eyes widen right away and how big her smile grows, she seems to like it. “Oh, it’s wonderful! Honey, the flavor combinations are amazing. I love the sweetness of the panna cotta together with the pineapple and mango. I can taste the lime too and that adds even more contrast. And I adore the disc! That little bit of crunch is so interesting with the smoothness of everything else.”

A warm glow spreads through Jake and he grins proudly, thrilled that his parents both love the dessert so much.

His dad has also taken his first few bites and he’s making appreciative noises too. “Amazing, Jake. Really. We’ll have to order two more. Perhaps each.”

Jake laughs. “In that case, I better go and make sure the other diners receive theirs or they may be left having to choose other desserts.”

“That’s a definite concern, yes.”

His mom is dipping her spoon back into her glass. “I hope the rest of service goes well, sweetheart. We’ll go upstairs when we’re finished and wait for you.”

His parents will be flying out of town again tomorrow morning and they’ll spend the night at one of their homes that’s close to the hotel, but they always spend a while with Jake before leaving. As much as Jake loves having his parents in the kitchen, he needs to maintain a certain professional standard during service, which makes it difficult to have honest personal conversations.

“And don’t rush,” his dad adds. “We’ll order some wine and relax until you join us.”

Grinning, Jake nods. “Alright. I’ll see you after service. I hope you enjoy the rest of it, and feel free to order more.”

“Oh, I’ll definitely be taking you up on that offer,” his mom tells him, her eyes sparkling.

* * *

Sipping his perfectly-matched-with-his-meal wine, Tom savors the delicious tastes in his mouth before taking another bite of his fish. It’s one of the nights where he’s eating by himself, but he likes watching the other people in the restaurant. He enjoys the atmosphere and he loves studying different people. It gives him good idea on characters he can portray for his clients.

As he’s finishing his main course, there’s a subtle shift in the dining room’s atmosphere and lots of people are whispering and looking over in one direction. Following their gaze, Tom sees a couple standing next to a table, chatting with the diners. Although their backs are to him, Tom recognizes Jake’s parents right away. His mom had given Jake her curly brown hair and his dad had given Jake his laugh, making them unmistakable. Jake had told him his parents would be in town today and Tom wonders if they’ve already tried Jake’s new panna cotta dessert. He’d tried it yesterday and he’d loved the cool ice sculpture it had been served in.

Tom keeps eating, watching as Jake’s parents make the rounds in the dining room, chatting and laughing with diners. When they leave the table close to his, Jake’s dad is glancing around and his eyes light up when he sees Tom. Smiling, Tom raises his hand in greeting.

Jake’s dad says something to his mom and she looks over at Tom, smiling as she hurries over. “Tom! It’s so nice to see you again.”

Standing up, Tom smiles. “Likewise, Judy.”

When she reaches him, Tom bends over to give her air kisses next to her cheeks while she does the same.

“Tom, what a pleasure!” Brian says, reaching out and shaking Tom’s hand as soon as he’s stepped back from Judy.

“The pleasure’s always mine, sir. It’s great to see you both again.”

“How has business been?”

Smiling, Tom nods. “Very good. Busy, as always.”

He carefully doesn’t add that part of that business is being paid to have sex with their son twice a week. That’s a detail they wouldn’t like or understand and Tom would never embarrass either himself or Jake like that. Besides, he truly does like Jake’s parents. Whenever somebody asks him what he does for a living, he gives the same vague answer he gives his parents: ‘sales’. Technically, it’s not a complete lie—he just omits the detail of what exactly he’s selling.

Brian laughs—the laugh identical to Jake’s—and shrugs. “But that’s the way we all like it, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.”

They all have to shift over as a waiter passes by with trays of the panna cotta ice sculptures and Judy’s eyes light up. “Did you try one of Jake’s gorgeous panna cotta desserts?”

Tom grins. “Oh, yes. I ate one yesterday and another the day before. I’m usually a bigger fan of chocolate, but how can somebody resist something that beautiful?”

Judy laughs and Brian’s smiling proudly. This is something Tom loves about Jake’s parents. Based on Jake’s privileged upbringing and his enjoyment of the finer things in life, it’s easy to assume that his parents are snotty and distant, but they’re anything but. They always find a way to bring Jake into conversations and shower him with praise at every opportunity. Tom also appreciates that they’re happy to let Jake do whatever he wants to do as a career. Jake had told him that he’d developed a love of cooking—especially baking—early on in life and becoming a pastry chef was all he’d ever wanted. His parents never pushed him to go into hotel management or become more involved in the day-to-day running of their empire. Instead, they fully supported Jake’s desire to go to culinary school and they’re thrilled that he’s working at one of their hotel restaurants.

“That ice sculpture is so creative, isn’t it?” Brian says, practically glowing. “Just when I think he can’t surprise me any more, he always goes and does it.”

Tom grins. “He’s a very creative guy.”

Well, he is where desserts are concerned. In the bedroom, Jake’s desires are always very simple; he just wants to get fucked as hard and long as Tom can manage. Tom tries to introduce new toys and new techniques to expand Jake’s world a little bit and while Jake’s eager to learn new things, he never asks to change things up and he’s happy to go along with whatever Tom wants to add to their routine.

Jake’s actually the easiest client he’s ever had. His rates are really too high for what they do together and Tom had initially doubted Jake’s insistence that he just wants to have a straight forward fuck twice a week—no dinner, no flirting, no role playing. He was sure Jake would eventually start insisting on doing things that make the cost of the sessions worth it or he’d want to stop their arrangement. But by the time they’d settled into the routine and Tom came to realize that Jake really did want to stick to straight forward fucking—along with minor other things—Jake had turned down his offer to lower his rates:

“I specifically chose you and I accepted the terms you set, including the cost. I’m very happy with our arrangement and I’m getting exactly what I want. To me, I’m getting my money’s worth. Maybe it’s boring compared to what you do with other people, but it’s worth every penny to me.”

Tom had quickly pointed out that having sex with Jake isn’t boring. It just doesn’t feel like work. Jake’s always insisted that Tom be himself during their sessions and Jake doesn’t have any desire to create elaborate scenarios, which is another reason the work is so easy. Jake isn’t just the easiest client Tom’s ever dealt with, but their relationship has been unique from the very start.

He’d been living at the hotel for about a year, having recently left the escort agency he’d worked for and having gone out on his own. He’d had a lot of dates at the Seever Hotel while with the agency, but having to bring all his gear with him for every session was annoying, as was being assigned to different hotel rooms.

Once he’d established a good list of clients and was having sessions multiple times a week, he decided it was a waste of time to pay for his apartment when he was rarely there. He loves having everything set up in his room just the way he wants and the hotel has everything that makes his life comfortable: the restaurant, housekeeping, a pool, a gym, a spa and of course, Jake. Being directly next door to Jake is convenient too. He often wanders over to Jake’s room in the mornings to eat breakfast with him and Chesa or play cards together and he loves spending time with Jake in the gym or the pool before they head off to get ready for work.

On the night he’d met Jake for the first time, he’d finished a session and stepped out of his room when he’d noticed an attractive, lanky guy around his own age loitering in the hall. The guy had been chewing on his lip and fidgeting, clear signs that he was nervous. As it turned out, Jake had known what Tom did for a living and once that had been established, he hadn’t wasted any time before diving right into the reason for the conversation.

“I’m interested in hiring you for sex.”

Tom remember blinking and also cringing, not accustomed to people being so straight-forward about these things while in a hotel hallway. But as he’d learn over time, Jake sees absolutely no difference between Tom’s job and his own. In Jake’s mind, they both provided enjoyable experiences to customers and they get paid for the skills they use to provide those experiences.

He’d told Jake that he never accepts new clients until he’s done an interview with them in a public, neutral locations. Jake had happily agreed and they’d met at a nearby coffee shop a few days later to discuss the situation further.

Jake had been just as straight-forward during the meeting as he’d been in the hotel hallway. “Discretion is of the upmost importance to me. Not because I would care what people think if they knew I was obtaining services from a prostitute, but because it would embarrass my parents.”

Tom had struggled not to laugh. “I don’t generally put my clients’ information on billboards or the internet. That would attract a lot of attention, plus that would end with me being behind bars for a number of reasons.”

Jake had quirked a smile at him before growing serious. “I understand that. But my situation requires a little more discretion than normal, due to the location where we’d be meeting.”

“At the hotel? We can meet somewhere else if you—”

“No, no. I prefer to meet at the hotel. I live in the room directly next to yours and I work in the restaurant, so that location is very convenient for me. The reason discretion is so important to me is because my last name’s Seever.”

That’s when all the pieces had fallen into place and Tom had become intrigued by the entire situation. But before he could analyze things further, Jake had continued talking.

“I’m looking for a regular partner for sex. I’m not interested in pursuing romantic relationships due to the time involved. I’m also not interested in meeting with random people for sex. I’ve tried it and I didn’t enjoy it. Their standards of hygiene and their sexual requirements weren’t to my taste, which is why I’ve come to the conclusion that hiring somebody would be the best option for me. In my experience, paying somebody to perform a specific task is always the best way to ensure I’m getting the type of service I desire.”

The whole thing had continued to intrigue Tom. A big part of it had been Jake’s age, which turned out to be very close to Tom’s age. Jake’s the youngest client Tom’s ever had and it’s very rare for people to hire prostitutes for regular sessions when they’re in their late twenties. But as Tom would find out, Jake rarely does things the way other people do.

Tom had laid out his rates, which Jake had agreed to with a firm nod and ‘of course’. Then they’d discussed specifics, which was when Tom learned about Jake’s very basic requirements. He didn’t enjoy kissing and he wasn’t interested in a lot of unnecessary physical contact. He just wanted to get fucked.

Their first few sessions had gone well and Jake had been satisfied with how things went. Tom hates lapsing into an awkward silence with a client when they’re both sprawled out on the bed after finishing and Jake hadn’t requested to keep conversations to a minimum, so Tom had struck up a conversation, asking Jake about the restaurant. That had led to the wonderful discovery that Tom—somebody with a lifelong addiction to chocolate—had stumbled across a pastry chef.

As it turned out, the two of them had a lot more in common than Tom had originally thought. Due to being the same age and also being neighbors, they’d quickly bonded over their love of desserts and fine food and started spending time together outside of their sessions. Jake has never mentioned wanting to change their sexual arrangement and Tom never asks for free desserts. If he tells Jake that he’ll go to his room in the mornings, Jake usually brings an extra plate of dessert—one for Chesa and one for Tom—but when Tom eats in the restaurant, he always pays full price.

It always amuses Tom how well their strange relationship works. He never would have thought that he’d end up being best friends with somebody like Jake Seever, but three years later, things are still going well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recipe Link: [Ice Drop Panna Cota](https://www.howtocookthat.net/public_html/vanilla-pancotta-dessert-recipe/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recipe Link: [Sugar Snow Globe](https://www.howtocookthat.net/public_html/christmas-sugar-snow-globe-desserts/)
> 
> (I'm putting the link here because putting it at the end of the chapter wouldn't be appropriate)

While Tom’s in his bathroom, checking his hair and making sure his suit looks good, his phone buzzes on the counter with a message from Jake.

‘ _When you’re done your session, I need your opinion. For the sugar globe dessert, what would you like better: a pistachio base or an orange base?’_

His first instinct is to ask for a chocolate base, but he knows Jake’s added a delicious chocolate tart to this week’s desserts selections, so this one needs to be a non-chocolate option for the weird people who don’t like chocolate.

Jake had sketched him his idea for the sugar globe dessert when they were lounging in bed after their session last night, but he hadn’t finalized all the flavors yet. It’ll have a pastry base with a rim, filled with orange curd and topped with diplomat cream and fresh fruit. The coolest part will be a transparent sugar dome that will sit on top, encasing the cream and fresh fruit.

Jake’s text had come at the perfect time because Tom’s client is currently in the bedroom, kneeling naked on his bed and waiting for Tom to come and ‘punish’ him with a thorough spanking, followed by a just-as-thorough fucking. Drawing things out by making him wait is something the man loves, so he takes his time thinking about Jake’s dessert.

He finally decides he doesn’t like how he’s picturing the green pastry base will look. _‘I think the pistachio base will look cartoonish. The green won’t look too good. I like the orange better.’_

Jake replies right away. _‘I agree. But I wasn’t sure if I liked having two orange flavors. I’ll come up with a different flavor for the curd. Thank you.’_

Knowing he’ll be full of adrenaline by the end of this session, Tom asks Jake if he’s in the mood to go for a swim afterwards. Unfortunately, Jake tells him he needs to spend time practicing the plating of a new dessert, but he asks Tom if he wants to play cards with him and Chesa tomorrow morning. That’s one of Tom’s favorite ways to spend his morning, so he sends back a quick: _‘Sure!’_

‘ _Okay. Enjoy your session.’_

Smiling, Tom turns off his phone and shoves it into his bathroom drawer. It does suck that he won’t get to spend time with Jake today, but Tom knows when it comes to making sure his desserts are beautiful, that will always be top priority for Jake.

Since Tom has befriended Jake, he always takes extra time to study the desserts in the restaurant in detail. It’s so cool that he knows the person whose talented hands had put together all the different components to make something beautiful and delicious. The fact that Jake goes completely overboard with his plating standards seems to be one of his many quirks that Tom has decided to consider amusing rather than exasperating.

He can’t believe the amount of fuss Jake makes during plating in order to make sure every single plate he puts out looks exactly the same. Nobody in the restaurant would notice if the location of one person’s hazelnut garnish is 1/8 inch different from somebody else’s. But Jake’s convinced that somebody will notice and he’d rather spend hours practicing how to make every single plate look identical rather than risk somebody getting a dessert plate that looks slightly different.

In Tom’s opinion, Jake’s behavior is less about what people will and will not notice and more about an obsessive compulsion that Jake fell into and can’t let go of. It’s a classic sign of OCD but Jake’s always brushed off that classification. According to Jake, he doesn’t have OCD, he just has ‘high standards’ and he’s convinced everybody else is holding him to those standards. But at the end of the day, Jake’s OCD isn’t holding him back in the kitchen or the rest of his life, so if he’s happy obsessing over every single component on a dish with his ruler and tweezer, then Tom will keep his mouth shut about it.

Taking one last look in the mirror to make sure he looks like the cold dom he’s being paid to pretend to be, he steps out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a snap.

The trembling, naked man lying face down on his bed with his knees pulled up has his face turned towards Tom, but his eyes are closed as per Tom’s instructions. The man’s lips are twitching as he struggles not to smile and Tom can’t quite catch his own smile before he pushes it away. He loves seeing how happy his clients are, even before they get started. It’s a wonderful feeling being able to give people an amazing experience that they don’t trust anybody else in their lives to provide.

His client’s knees are spread wide and his feet are just hanging off the end of the bed, in the exact position Tom had left him in. Slowly walking up to him, Tom stands behind him. “Were you a good boy this week, Harry?”

The client—whose real name is not Harry; it’s just a name the client finds really sexy for some reason—quickly shakes his head. “No, sir. I’m sorry.”

“I’m disappointed in you, Harry.”

“I know, sir. I’m sorry.”

“Apologizing won’t make up for your behavior. We’ve been over this countless times. If you’re not a good boy, you need to be punished.”

‘Harry’ nods frantically, that smile tugging on his lips again as his hands clutch the sheets. “Yes, sir,” he breathes out.

Walking over to his box of toys, Tom takes out the wooden paddle that the client prefers. “Open your eyes.”

When the client’s staring at him, Tom slowly twists the wooden paddle in his hands, knowing the light in the room is glinting off the shiny wooden surface. The man’s eyes widen and this time, he can’t keep the smile off his face. He’s trembling so hard that Tom’s surprised the bed isn’t vibrating.

Careful to keep his own face blank, Tom slowly walks behind the bed and gently lays the paddle on the man’s ass, rubbing it gently over his skin as the man shivers and lets out a soft moan.

“We’ll start with twenty. If I’m not satisfied that you’ve learned your lesson, we’ll do more.”

“Yes, sir.” The man’s voice is barely above a whisper.

“You’ll keep count of every stroke. If you make a mistake, we’ll start over.”

The man lets out a high pitched whine and lifts his ass higher, pressing harder against the wooden paddle.

It takes every ounce of control not to smile at the man’s joy, but Tom takes a deep breath to calm himself as he prepares to give ‘Harry’ the spanking he’s been dreaming about all week.

* * *

Putting down the king of spades card, Tom grins, sure he’s won this round. “Beat that, you two.”

Jake’s groaning because Tom’s king definitely beats the ten he’s put down, but Chesa’s smirking. “Oh, I beat.”

Then she triumphantly puts down the two of diamonds, which is the trump suit and obliterates Tom’s carefully hoarded king.

Tom lets out a groan as Chesa laughs and pulls the pile of cards to her side of the table. “I surprise you, huh?”

Jake’s laughing. “You didn’t just trump him, but you did it with a two. That’s just rude, Chesa.”

Sighing dramatically, Tom narrows his eyes at Chesa. “At least now I know you’re out of spades.”

She wiggles her eyebrows at him before looking down at her cards, contemplating what to play next. “You not know my other cards. I still beat you both.”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see.”

They play another few rounds and Chesa ends up beating both of them, but just barely. When she’s finished gloating over her win, she slides her cards over to Jake. “Okay, I do work now. Jake, you go out or stay?”

Jake sweeps the cards into a pile and glances at Tom. “I have to email my supply order to Chef Mitra, but I was planning on going down to the gym afterwards. What are your plans?”

Getting up from the table, Tom stretches. “I’ll join you.” He needs to go shopping and he has a session later on, but he won’t need a lot of prep time.

“Alright, I’ll get changed and meet you down there.”

Saying goodbye to Chesa, Tom walks out of Jake’s room and takes the few steps that brings him to his own room. Unlocking his door, he lets the door shut behind him and goes into his bedroom to get changed. As he’s pulling his gym shirt over his head, somebody pounds on his front door.

Frowning, Tom finishes pulling the shirt down, wondering who in the world is hammering on his door like that. Neither the housekeeping staff nor Jake would ever bang on a door like that. Approaching the door, he peers through the peephole on the door…and immediately lets out an annoyed sigh.

It’s a former client of his who he’d parted ways with several months ago and they hadn’t parted on good terms. The termination of their relationship had seemed very final, which is why the man’s presence is surprising. But in any case, the man’s presence is violating one of Tom’s most important rules. Clients can never come to his hotel room or even the hotel itself unless they’re coming for a session. It’s for the client’s protection as much as Tom’s and this particular client knows better.

“Why are you here, Peter?” Tom calls through the door. “You know my rules. If you wanna book a session, you call me. You being here right now not only means I’ll never consider taking you back as a client, but I’ll call security to have you removed.”

There’s more hammering on the door. The idiot must be using his fist. “Open the fucking door!”

Tom rolls his eyes. “You know I’m not gonna do that. You have two minutes to leave or I’m calling security.”

Just to make sure the man won’t try actually busting through the door, Tom double checks that the deadbolt is closed and his safety latch is secure. He also pulls his phone out of his pocket and pulls up the hotel’s number, ready to call for help if he needs it.

The hammering stops and it’s followed by silence. Tom hopes that Peter’s gone away, but when he checks the peephole, Peter’s still there.

“I just wanna talk. Face to face,” Peter says, sounding much calmer.

Tom frowns as he stares at him through the door. “We have nothing to talk about.”

That makes Peter’s calm expression twist into anger again and he smacks his hand against the door. “Open the fucking door or I’m gonna tell everybody what you are. I’m gonna make such a stink about it that no hotel in the entire country’s gonna let you have a room. You won’t be able to get an apartment, house or even a bathroom stall at a club. You’ll be walking the fucking streets with the rest of your kind and sucking dick in alleyways.”

Tom rolls his eyes at the over exaggeration, but Peter’s words do worry him a little. He’s not worried about being blacklisted by hotels in the city—and even if he does, he could set up shop elsewhere—but he’s worried about his clients fleeing if he’s publicly outed as an escort. Sighing, Tom puts his hands on the deadbolt. “Okay, I’m opening the door. I’ll give you two minutes to say your piece.”

Unlocking the door, Tom opens it and steps back as Peter pushes his way in. Making sure he’s keeping the door right behind him, Tom carefully watches Peter and keeps his finger hoovering over the call button on his phone. “What do you want?”

Peter glares at him. “I want my money back.”

Tom frowns. “What money? You didn’t leave your wallet here last time.”

“Not that money, you fucking moron! I want the money I paid you!”

Snorting, Tom shoots Peter a condescending smile. “I think you’re confused. See, when somebody pays for a service and they receive that service and it met the quality standards that were promised, then you can’t get a refund. Didn’t your parents teach you that? You can’t get your money back for a steak if you already ate it.”

Peter’s glaring at him, white with rage. “My fucking wife left me and it’s your damn fault, so I want my money back!”

Tom rolls his eyes. “I didn’t force you to cheat on your wife and you were the idiot who left your phone lying around with your calendar wide open with ‘sex with Mark’ written in it.”

The details still make him chuckle, even months later. He hadn’t been worried when a gossip magazine had printed those details. He often uses fake names with his clients and there hadn’t been any pictures involved or references to the hotel and Tom’s real identity, so the whole thing had been humorous more than anything else.

A vein is pulsing on Peter’s forehead and he steps closer to Tom. “You tricked me into having sex with you!”

That makes Tom laugh out loud. “Are you crazy? You approached me, you idiot. You practically begged me to take you on as a client and you were willing to—and I quote--‘take whatever time slots are available’.”

Peter’s eyes dart around and he’s getting red in the face. “I want—”

Tom makes a big show out of looking down at his phone. “Oh, look at the time. Your two minutes are up. Time for you to leave. Go have a good life, Peter. And next time, try to be a little more discreet when you hire a fuck boy for yourself.”

Keeping his back to the door, Tom walks backwards until he reaches it and flips open the deadbolt and takes off the safety latch. He stands there, waiting for Peter to accept the fact that he’s not getting what he came for and start the process of getting out of Tom’s life for good. Peter’s glaring at him and breathing hard, his body shaking as his hands are clenched into fists. He finally stomps towards Tom.

Anticipating that Peter will be leaving, Tom steps away from the door and glanced behind himself to find the door handle to open it—

—and that’s when he’s punched in the face.

The explosion of pain combines with the hard crack as his head smacks into the wooden door and he’s left stunned. For a moment, he’s only aware of the pain and he lifts his hands to his face out of reflex, his numb hand dropping his phone.

He doesn’t recover fast enough and there’s another punch to the side of his head, bringing another rush of pain as sparks light up his vision and he collapses to his knees. The suddenness of the attack and the pain keeps him frozen and Peter uses his inability to react to his advantage and starts kicking him and raining down blows on his head.


	4. Chapter 4

Tom has no idea how long the attack lasts. He can barely breathe as pain radiates through his body. Yelling for help is out of the question.

“Dirty, fucking whore! You stole my fucking money, you destroyed my marriage and you humiliated me and now you’re not even gonna give me my money back?!”

All Tom can do is curl up and try to protect himself as well as he can while Peter keeps going. Internally, he’s cursing the very good sound proofing of the hotel rooms. Unless somebody happens to pass by his door, chances are that nobody will hear what’s going on.

Even if Tom wanted to give Peter his money back, that wouldn’t be a straight-forward process. He doesn’t keep any money in his room. All he can hope for is that Peter will stop on his own or that somebody will walk past his room and want to help him.

* * *

Having emailed his supply order with Chef Mitra, Jake shuts down his computer and hurries to leave. He’d made some last minute additions to his request, which has made the process take longer than normal. Shutting his door, he’s hurrying down the hallway, when his attention is caught by loud yelling coming from Tom’s room.

When Jake stops to listen, he hears a man’s voice and he knows right away that it’s trouble. First, he doesn’t recognize the man’s voice, and second, the man keeps screaming that he wants his money back. There’s no doubt this is an unhappy client of Tom’s and that means this might be a problem. For a second, Jake considers whether this could be one of Tom’s role-playing scenarios...but Tom had been clear that he wanted to go to the gym and his session wasn’t starting until hours later. This can’t be a session...which means whatever is happening is probably not consensual and it needs to be stopped. Tom’s not responding to the yelling, which is another worrying sign.

None of this sounds good and alarm bells are ringing in Jake’s head. His heart rate rises and panic rushes through him as he debates what to do. He sees Chesa’s cleaning cart at the other end of the hallway, so he could run and get her master key to open the door, but that’ll take time. It’s best to see if he can put a stop to things right now.

“This is security,” he calls through the door, trying to keep his panic out of his voice. “We’ve had a noise complaint for this room. If you don’t stop whatever you’re doing right now, we’re going to call the police.”

The man stops mid-yell and there’s silence.

Jake stands there, holding his breath and wondering what to do next. Just when he’s about to run to get Chesa’s key, Tom’s door is flung open and a sweaty, middle-aged man runs past him and towards the emergency exit stairwell.

Again, Jake’s frozen by indecision as panic makes his thoughts race because he’s never encountered a situation like this. Clearly, there’s been a violent altercation. Should Jake rush after the man and have him arrested? Should Jake check on Tom first? Should Jake contact security before anything else?

The sudden silence of the hallway is interrupted by a soft, pain-filled moan coming from inside Tom’s room and Jake’s feet are already hurrying inside before he’s made the conscious decision to do so.

What he finds is terrifying. Tom’s curled up on the floor, right by the door, moaning in pain and when Jake steps around him, he sees Tom’s arms are streaked with blood as they’re wrapped over his head. Jake’s stomach is clenched into knots and he’s shaking as he kneels down next to Tom. “Tom?”

“Jake?” Tom’s voice is very faint.

“Yes.” He has no idea what to do or what to say. His hands twitch, wanting to touch Tom and do…something, but he has no idea what would be the right thing to do. Maybe Tom doesn’t want to be touched? Maybe touching Tom will hurt him?

“Is he gone?” Tom whispers.

“Yes. He went down the stairwell.” Well, technically Jake doesn’t know if the man’s left the hotel and that’s something he should check, but that thought is competing with the million other thoughts in his head. “What…what do you need me to do? I don’t…I have no idea what to do. Tell me how to help you.”

“Just…stay with me.”

That’s something Jake can do. He kneels on the floor, staring at Tom’s trembling, curled up body as his heart clenches with pain. A lump grows in his throat and he has the strangest urge to cry. He can’t stand seeing Tom like this. He can’t stand the thought that Tom’s in pain and that somebody did this to him. What kind of a monster would do this to somebody wonderful like Tom?

But then rational thought starts to filter through his panic. Jake had told Tom that his attacker had left, but that hasn’t been confirmed. What if the man circles back? Jake has no experience with physical fights and if both he and Tom get hurt, that won’t help anybody. No, they need help. He fumbles to pull his phone out of his pocket and calls the front desk.

“Thank you for calling Hotel Seever, this is Cecilia speaking. How can I help you?”

“Hi, Cecilia. It’s Jake Seever. We had a…security incident on my floor.”

“Are you okay?” Her chipper professional tone disappears and is replaced by panic.

The panic matches how Jake feels, but it’s not what she thinks. “A guest was attacked by a gentleman who came into the hotel.”

“Should I call the police?”

It’s on the tip of Jake’s tongue to say yes, but before he can say anything, Tom raises his head, nearly making Jake’s heart stop. Tom’s face is swollen and bloodied and Jake can barely breathe.

“Don’t call the cops,” Tom whispers. He must have heard Cecilia’s voice through the phone.

“Tom, we need to—”

“Don’t. Please.”

Jake doesn’t understand why he shouldn’t call the police. Violent incidents like this are something the police know how to handle, unlike Jake. But Tom has more knowledge of situations like this than him, so if Tom doesn’t want the police called, Jake will abide by his wishes. “No, Cecilia. Perhaps later. But please check the security cameras to ensure he’s left. He’s a middle-aged white man, brown hair and was wearing a gray shirt. He took the left stairwell from my floor.”

“His name’s Peter Ruston,” Tom whispers.

The name sounds familiar, but Jake can’t remember why. Anyway, that’s not an important detail right now. “His name’s Peter Ruston,” Jake tells Cecilia. “I want him banned for life from every Seever Hotel in the world. Effective immediately.”

It’s very rare that he uses his family status like this, but he doesn’t even hesitate. The urge to make sure this monster never gets near Tom again is very strong and it also gives him grim satisfaction to ensure the monster is never allowed to stay in the comfort and luxury of a Seever Hotel ever again.

“Yes, sir. I’ll coordinate with security.”

“Thank you. Please call me back when you’ve confirmed that he’s left. And I want security being on high alert for him.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll let you know when he’s left. Does the guest require medical assistance?”

Again, it’s instinct to say yes, but Tom shakes his head and whispers: “No. Please.”

“Tom, you’re injured.”

“Yeah, but if I go to the hospital like this, the cops will get involved. I’ll be fine. Please.”

Against his better judgment, Jake once again fulfills Tom’s request. “No, he’ll be fine, Cecilia.”

“Should I make an incident report about this?”

Jake feels conflicted about that. On one hand, if the man is a threat to other people, then they should make a report to keep other guests and the staff safe. In addition, they’d be breaking hotel policy by not reporting it. But on the other hand, Tom wouldn’t want every staff member in every Seever Hotel in the world knowing about this. Covering the phone with his hand, Jake glanced down at him. “Tom, is this Peter individual a threat to others?”

Tom shakes his head weakly. “No. He came after me specifically.”

That makes Jake’s decisions easy and he uncovers the phone. “Cecilia, please don’t make a report about it. Let’s keep this just between us. If you ever encounter any difficulties for not making a report, explain you were acting under my orders.”

“Yes, sir. Is there anything else?”

Jake glances down at Tom, who weakly shakes his head.

“No, thank you.”

“Alright, I’ll confirm with security that the individual left and proceed with the banning order.”

“Thank you.” Jake hangs up his phone, then he’s back to wringing his hands uselessly, desperate to offer Tom some kind of comfort. It’s strange that he has a very strong urge to wrap his arms around Tom and hold him close. Unlike his parents, he’s never been a tactile person and physical contact usually makes him uncomfortable, but that urge is very strong.

He stays kneeling on the floor, frantically staring at Tom and waiting for him to tell Jake what he needs. It takes a while, but Tom’s shaking eventually slows and he gradually uncurls himself, wincing as he does it. “I wanna go to your room,” Tom mumbles.

“Okay. I…” Jake’s hands twitch in the air. “I don’t want to hurt you. Tell me what you need.”

“Just wait.”

Jake stays on the floor as Tom slowly continues to uncurl, moaning in pain and letting out small, choked sounds. He manages to sit up and keeps his eyes closed, his face twisted in pain. “Jake?”

“Yes?”

“Do you see my phone? It should be on the floor somewhere.”

Glancing around, Jake sees the phone lying on the carpet and he swoops over and picks it up. “I have it.”

“Okay.” Tom holds up a trembling arm in Jake’s direction. “Help me up, please.”

Standing up and stuffing both phones into his pockets, Jake gently wraps his hands around Tom’s arm and slowly pulls him to his feet. Tom lets out a choked cry and squeezes his eyes closed, but they get him into a standing position. Jake waits while Tom slumps against him, shaking and letting out little gasps of pain. Out of instinct, Jake wraps his other arm around Tom’s waist, holding him tightly against his side.

Tom takes a deep, shaky breath. “Let’s go fast.”

“Okay.” Keeping a tight grip on Tom, Jake turns them around and pulls Tom along as he moves through Tom’s door, letting it click shut behind him and struggling the few steps down the hallway to reach his room. He’s never been this glad that they live only steps apart. Getting his key card out of his pocket and unlocking his door is difficult, but Jake manages it. He doesn’t even think about it; he drags Tom into his bedroom and gently lowers him onto his bed.

Tom makes a face. “I’ll get your sheets all bloody.”

Jake scoffs. “We live in a hotel. I could get the sheets changed a dozen times each day and still not run out.”

It occurs to him that this is the first time in his entire life that somebody other than himself has been in his bed. As Tom slowly stretches out and puts his head on the pillow, letting out choked sobs and grimacing as he goes, streaks of blood appear on the crisp white bedspread and pillow case and Jake finds himself feeling oddly protective over him. He likes seeing Tom in his room and his bed. It makes him feel like he’s protecting him and that calms some of the panic that’s been clutching his heart. This is his home and he can keep Tom safe here.

But once Tom has settled, it occurs to Jake that Tom’s injuries need to be attended to. Thankfully, this is something he knows how to deal with. Dealing with cuts, bruises and burns is a daily reality in the kitchen. “I’ll go get first aid supplies,” he tells Tom, who nods weakly, having closed his eyes.

Hurrying out of the room, Jake grabs his first aid kit and paper towels, fills bags with ice from his fridge’s ice machine and fills a bowl with water. Bringing everything back into the bedroom, he sets his supplies on the bedside table and brings a chair from the dining area. “Tom?”

“Hmm?” Tom’s eyes are closed and there’s a grimace of pain on his face, his jaw clenched tight.

“I want to check you for injuries. I think it’ll be easiest if I cut your clothes off. Would that be okay?”

“You can do whatever the hell you want, as long as I don’t have to move too much.”

“Alright.”

Moving slowly, Jake cuts Tom’s clothes off him and leaves them spread out underneath his body. It’s a good thing he’s accustomed to Tom’s naked body because he can fully focus on Tom’s injuries without getting distracted by the rest of him.

It seems the worst of the damage was done to Tom’s face, arms and legs. He must have curled himself up once the attack started and hopefully that prevented any serious injuries. The first thing Jake does is wrap the bags of ice in paper towels and apply them to Tom’s face and other parts of him that are already swelling. Keeping his touch as gentle as he can, Jake wipes the cuts clean and tapes clean gauze to them. The cut on Tom’s cheek and on his right forearm are still bleeding sluggishly so Jake gently puts another pillow behind Tom’s head to prop him up a bit and holds up his right arm as he presses on the cuts to stop the bleeding. Tom hisses from the pressure and makes a face, making Jake’s heart squeeze. “I’m sorry…I know it hurts. I’ll stop soon, but I need to stop the bleeding.”

The entire time Jake’s tending to him, Tom’s quiet and his eyes stay closed. If Jake weren’t filled with such a desperate need to take care of Tom and make him feel better, he’d probably think it was strange. In the three years they’ve known each other, Jake can count the number of times Tom’s been quiet for longer than a few minutes on one hand. If Tom’s having a bad day, he usually prefers to keep to himself. Jake’s the same, so he hasn’t seen Tom when he’s not his usual cheerful self.

It also occurs to him that Tom keeping his eyes closed is actually a very big deal. Tom’s just been physically assaulted, yet he trusts Jake enough that he’s keeping his eyes closed and letting him touch him all over. It’s almost a reversal from their usual roles and in any other situation, Jake would find this fascinating enough to think about it further, but he’s much more focused on an overpowering desire to hold Tom in his arms and destroy anybody who wants to hurt him. It’s a bizarre feeling, one which he’s never had before.

His parents are wonderful and have always loved him to pieces, but due to their constant travel schedule, most of their bonding has always been done over the phone. As a result, Jake’s unaccustomed to physical contact and it makes him uncomfortable. He’s never seen this as a problem and he’s spent very little time thinking about it, which is why his desire to cuddle with Tom is so strange to him. He tells himself that Tom’s not in any condition to be cuddled and even if he were, Jake wouldn’t feel comfortable with the cuddling. It doesn’t matter if it’s something his brain wants—his body wouldn’t be comfortable doing it.

Then another thought occurs to him: would giving Tom physical comfort like that even be appropriate in the first place? He’s never had a close friend like Tom before, so Jake has no idea if that’s acceptable behavior between friends. In any case, cuddling isn’t an option right now, regardless of whether Tom would enjoy it or not. Right now, Jake needs to stay focused on helping address Tom’s more immediate problems. Once Tom’s wounds have been tended to, Jake gets him pain-relief medication and helps him drink some water. Jake marvels at the fact that Tom wordlessly swallows the pills without opening his eyes, blindly trusting that Jake isn’t giving him something that will hurt him.

“The meds are gonna make me sleepy,” Tom mumbles.

Jake nods, even though Tom can’t see that. “Alright. Go to sleep and I’ll stay right here. I have to keep rotating the ice packs, but I’ll try to do it without waking you.”

Tom doesn’t reply and Jake stays quiet, only moving to pull the blanket up Tom’s body and adjusting the ice packs on him. Eventually, Tom’s breathing gets deeper and the pain-filled frown fades from his face. He’s sleeping.

Jake stays where he is, staring at Tom and carefully watching every little shift of his body, ready to help if anything changes. When enough time has passed, Jake carefully removes the ice packs to give Tom’s skin a chance to warm up.

At one point, his phone rings in his pocket and he hurries out of his bedroom so he won’t disturb Tom before answering. It’s Cecilia and she confirms what he’s been hoping: Peter Ruston was observed sneaking out of the stairwell and going into the washroom in the lobby to clean up before he’d slipped out of the hotel. The security guards and bellmen were shown pictures of him and will keep an eye out for him.

“Okay, thank you, Cecilia,” Jake whispers.

“Is the guest alright?”

“He’ll be fine. I’ve provided first aid assistance and I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Let me know if there’s anything else you need me to do, sir.”

Jake smiles. “I will, thank you.”

As he’s going back into his bedroom, he randomly notices the time on his watch and his heart nearly stops. He should have been in the kitchen seven minutes ago, starting prep. But despite the shudder of panic that runs through him, Jake’s first thought is there’s no way he’s leaving Tom. He definitely _should_ be in the kitchen right now and if he skips service, diners won’t get the desserts they deserve…but none of those thoughts produce the usual panic in his head. If he’s going to be honest, he…doesn’t care about the diners right now. None of that is as important as staying with Tom. Without needing to think about it further, he calls Cecilia back, not wanting to disturb anybody in the kitchen.

“Thank you for calling Hotel Seever, this is Cecilia speaking. How can I help you?”

“Cecilia, it’s Jake again. I need to tend to the guest’s injuries tonight. I don’t want to leave him. Can you please inform Chef Mitra that I won’t be able to attend service tonight?”

“Of course.”

“Please extend my deepest apologies for letting the team down and I’ll make it up to them, but I can’t leave the injured individual alone.”

“That’s understandable, sir. It’s very considerate of you. I’ll let the kitchen know.”

“Thank you very much.”

Once he’s hung up the phone, he pulls out Tom’s phone too and turns off the ringers on both. Quietly going back into his bedroom, he puts both phones on the bedside table so he’ll see if anybody calls. Then he checks the temperature of Tom’s skin and brings fresh ice packs from the kitchen before carefully re-applying them. Tom makes a soft, displeased sound and frowns, which gives Jake the strongest urge to bend down and kiss the frown away.

Just like his other strange urges where Tom’s concerned, it takes him completely by surprise. Except for platonic kisses from his parents, Jake’s never been a fan of kissing other people and he’s successfully avoided it for most of his life. But as he’s bent over Tom, gently moving the ice packs, it takes every ounce of self-control not to bend down and gently kiss his face.

That would definitely not be appropriate. Not only is Jake certain that such behavior isn’t part of a normal male friendship, but Jake doesn’t have Tom’s permission to touch him in any way except to directly tend to his wounds.

Instead of continuing to dwell on any of his confusing thoughts, Jake uses his words to reassure Tom, hoping that will make the strange urge fade. “It’s alright. I’m just putting the ice packs on again. Keep sleeping, everything’s fine. I’m not going anywhere.”

Unfortunately, watching Tom’s frown fade away only makes the urge to pull Tom into his arms and cover his face in gentle kisses even stronger and Jake has to clutch the armrests of his chair to keep his hands where they should stay.

Time slowly slip by and Jake spends most of them watching Tom. He rotates the ice packs and checks the bleeding cuts, but he tries to keeping his touching to a minimum.

After a few hours, Tom stirs and lets out a soft sigh as he opens his eyes. “Jake?” His voice is still very weak.

“I’m right here. Do you need something?”

“What time is it?”

Jake checks his watch and tells him, which makes Tom let out a groan. “I need to call my client and cancel my session.”

Right. Jake’s completely forgotten about that. He’s about to suggest that he can call the client for Tom, but he thinks about how he would feel if a random stranger called him to discuss his sessions with Tom and it would make him panic. “Can you make the phone call?”

Tom nods and slowly pushes himself up with a grimace, leaning against the pillows behind him. “Yeah. I can’t hold the phone though. I can call him on speaker but—”

Jake pushes himself up. “I’ll go into the kitchen to give you privacy.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Do you want something to eat?”

Tom shakes his head. “No. My stomach doesn’t like pain meds. I’ll be fine for tonight.”

“Okay.” Jake pushes off his chair and leaves the bedroom, shutting the door behind him to give Tom some privacy.

He takes his time making dinner for himself and avoids looking at the time. Preparing food is reminding him that service is going on right now and diners are getting desserts that are probably not up to his usual standards…but whenever that panic starts to well up in his gut, he glances at the bedroom door and it fades again. No matter what’s happening downstairs, he doesn’t want to leave Tom. It’s not just the right thing to do, but the thought of leaving Tom on his own and not being here to take care of him makes Jake’s stomach clench.

When he’s done cooking, he goes back to the bedroom and sees Tom scrolling through his phone. “I’m going to eat out here. I don’t want the smell of food making you sick.”

“Thanks. I gotta call a couple more clients. I need to take at least a week off.”

That serves as a harsh reminder that Tom’s injuries aren’t something he’ll have recovered from within a few hours and Jake’s heart twists. Once again, he has a strong urge to rush over and hug Tom and kiss him and do whatever it takes to make him feel better. Instead, he nods and steps out of the bedroom. “Okay, I’ll be out here. Call me if you need me.”

“Thanks.”

Jake takes his time eating dinner and when he pokes his head back into the bedroom, Tom’s phone is back on the bedside table and he’s lying down again, his eyes closed. Moving quietly, Jake makes his way to the chair, his eyes glued to Tom and frantically watching his face for any indication of how much pain he’s still in.

Unfortunately, he must not be moving as quietly as he thought because Tom opens his eyes. “Hey.”

“Hi. Do you need anything? Water? Ice? More medication?”

“I’m feeling better. I’m gonna be incredibly sore tomorrow and the day after, but it doesn’t hurt as much anymore.”

Relief floods through Jake, similar to when he’s successfully verified that a part of his dessert meets his standards.

Tom shifts a little. “Can you help me get my clothes out from under me?”

Standing up, Jake pulls the blanket off Tom. “Of course.”

Tom makes a face as he stares at a streak of blood on the white blanket. “And would it be asking too much to get the linens changed? But if nobody’s around then I’ll be—”

Jake doesn’t even have to think about it. “I’ll do it myself.”

A few years ago, he’d attended a fundraiser with his parents and Jake had drunk too many sugary cocktails to notice that some of the hors d’oeuvres had been off. He’d had a disastrous night and he’d been too embarrassed to ask Chesa or anybody else to clean up after him, so he’d asked housekeeping to bring him fresh linens and he’d changed the sheets himself. He’d seen Chesa do it often enough that he had a vague idea of where to put what and he’d been pleasantly surprised when he’d managed to put everything in the right spot and in the right order.

In any case, it’s not avoiding embarrassment that’s making him determined to do it himself this time. Perhaps avoiding embarrassment would be appreciated by Tom, but Jake’s motivations are tied to that desperate need to take care of him. Being the one who provides a clean bed for him is something Jake absolutely needs to do. Grabbing his phone from the bedside table, he calls housekeeping and asks them to bring a few fresh sets of linens up to his room.

Tom’s watching him, smiling softly as Jake hangs up the phone. “Thanks.”

Having Tom thank him for this feels strange. Jake’s not doing this as a favor. He’s doing it because taking care of Tom is something he desperately needs and wants to do. “Of course.”


	5. Chapter 5

The rest of the evening slips by. When the linens arrive, Jake helps bring Tom out to his couch while he changes the bed. When that’s done, he helps Tom slowly make his way to the bathroom to relieve himself, then it’s back to the bedroom. Once he’s put Tom back into bed, Jake gives him fresh ice packs and helps him drink water and juice. Tom dozes from time to time, but he seems to be more alert and in less pain when he’s awake than he was a few hours ago.

Jake would happily stay awake the whole night if Tom needed him to, but the stress of the day slowly wears on him and he finds himself struggling to keep his eyes open as he sits on his chair by Tom’s bedside, especially once he turns the lights off to let Tom rest properly.

Eventually, Tom lets out a soft chuckle. “Jake, if you fall asleep there, you’re gonna fall out of the chair and crack your head open on something and we’ll have two injured people to deal with.”

Smiling, Jake blinks his eyes open and gives himself a shake. “I’m awake.”

“Barely. Go to sleep, I’ll be fine.”

Jake stares at Tom, but despite his face still being swollen and covered in cuts, his eyes are brighter than they were a few hours ago. “Okay. If you need me, I’ll be out in the living room.”

Wearily pushing himself out of the chair, Jake stumbles towards the door. He doesn’t even bother collecting his pajamas, he’ll just sleep in his clothes on the couch. It’s something that should bother him, but he’s too tired to care.

“Jake?”

There’s a hint of tension of Tom’s voice, which makes Jake freeze and spin around, panic seizing his heart again. “Yes? Are you alright?”

Tom has a worried frown on his face and Jake hates seeing it. It makes his heart hurt.

“Can you…do you mind…staying here?”

Jake frowns, confused. Didn’t Tom just finish pointing out how silly it would be for Jake to sleep in the chair? Oh, well. If Tom changed his mind and would rather Jake stay in the chair, then so be it. “Of course.”

Heading back to his chair, Jake’s about to sit down, when Tom shakes his head, looking apprehensive. “No, I mean…I don’t want you sleeping in that stupid chair. But I don’t wanna be on my own. I was thinking we can share the bed. I understand if you don’t feel comfortable doing that, but…”

Desire lights up in Jake’s stomach and he struggles to contain the smile on his face. Being allowed to sleep right next to Tom will be wonderful. He won’t be allowed to touch Tom the way he wants to, but being able to watch Tom sleep and being here to tend to his needs is exactly what Jake wants to do. Besides, sharing a bed with Tom won’t be that strange. They often lounge on Tom’s bed together after sex and Jake sometimes dozes for a little while. “I’d like that,” Jake breathes out, trying not to be too eager.

A bright smile appears on Tom’s face. “Okay.”

While Jake’s changing into pajamas, Tom’s shifting again as he watches him. “Do you want me to put on clothes too?”

Jake snorts. “Of course not. If you want to wear pajamas, I can help you but I think it’ll be a lot of fuss for little gain. You’ll just be in pain all over again. I’ll wear pajamas so things won’t be strange.”

“You sure? I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

To his surprise, Jake’s completely comfortable with the idea of sharing a bed with Tom while he’s naked. He’s not just comfortable with it but it’s not a big deal. If he didn’t have such a long history of being around a naked Tom, he’d probably be uncomfortable, but this feels almost normal. “I’m not uncomfortable, I promise. I’m accustomed to your naked body by now.”

Tom laughs. “Some people might be offended by that.”

Jake quirks a smile at him as he grabs his pajamas out of the closet and starts getting changed. “Some people, yes. But I know you’re not so I’m not worried.”

When he’s changed, Jake gets into bed very carefully, trying to make as little movement as possible. He keeps a foot of distance between them when he lies down, both to make sure he won’t accidentally hurt Tom while he sleeps and also to prevent himself from doing any inappropriate touching. The urge to touch Tom, hold him, kiss him and feel his warm body pressed against his own are still strong, but Jake hopes he’ll eventually get used to it or it’ll fade.

When Jake’s closed his eyes, he hears Tom shift a bit. “Jake?”

Jake’s eyes fly open again, ready to help Tom with whatever he needs. “Yes?”

Tom’s smiling at him, his eyes very soft. “Thanks for helping me.”

His lips curl into an equally soft smile. “You’re welcome. That’s what best friends do for each other, isn’t it?”

A weird look flashes over Tom’s face and Jake has no idea what it means, but then Tom’s face melts back into that small smile again. “Yeah, it is.”

Smiling, Jake makes himself comfortable on his pillow. “Good night, Tom.”

“Night, Jake.”

* * *

Despite the pain medication still making him sleepy and residual pain throbbing through his body, Tom can’t fall asleep for a while.

Within just a few hours, his feelings for Jake have gone through an enormous change. It had been such a relief to hear Jake’s voice on the other side of that door, pretending to be a security guard and when Jake had knelt in front of him, Tom had been desperate to crawl into his arms.

He’s never felt that strong urge around Jake before. A tactile person by nature, he often has to stop himself from slinging his arm around Jake or squishing up close to him when they’re watching a movie on Jake’s couch. Jake’s not comfortable with that type of physical contact and Tom’s always worked hard to respect that. Just because they regularly have sex doesn’t mean that Jake’s alright with that type of intimacy. Intimacy and sex are two different things.

Tom’s desperate desire for physical comfort right after the attack had been only partially due to his enjoyment of such contact but mostly, it had been tied to his fear and shock. It’s already faded somewhat. But what hasn’t faded is that warm glow in his heart that burns brighter whenever Jake looks at him or does something for him. It feels so nice to have somebody he can trust like that. Despite what he’d been through, Tom feels completely safe around Jake. He knows without having thought about it that Jake will keep him safe and that’s a wonderful feeling.

But it’s even more than that. Tom tries making up excuse after excuse and while some of them may be valid, he’s finally forced to confront the truth of the matter: he’s rapidly falling in love with Jake Seever.

* * *

The next day sees Tom being a lot more sore than he was the day before, as they’d predicted. He’s grumpy when he wakes up and tells Jake he doesn’t want to deal with Chesa or anybody else this morning. To avoid any difficulties, Jake goes out to greet Chesa in the kitchen and explains that Tom had spent the night in his room because there had been an incident the day before.

“Is Tom okay?” Chesa asks, a worried frown on her face.

“He’s…sore. He’ll be staying with me for a while. Please don’t concern yourself with cleaning in the bedroom. I changed the linens last night.”

She nods. “I leave extra things for you.”

“Alright, thank you.”

Thankfully, Chesa seems to understand that Tom doesn’t want to interact with her this morning and she hurries through her cleaning routine so she can move onto other rooms. Before she leaves she shoots Jake a worried frown. “You tell me if you need something.”

Jake smiles. “I will. Thank you.”

Once Chesa has left, Tom insists on having a shower by himself. Jake helps him into the bathroom and hovers outside the closed door, in case Tom needs his help. Despite Tom taking a long time, he seems to be in better spirits when he emerges and Jake helps him back into the bedroom to pull on some of Jake’s clothes.

Tom claims he’s tired of being in bed, so Jake brings him into the living room and puts him on the large couch that looks out across the balcony. The railings are sheets of glass, which allow Tom to see the beautiful view of the city below and the mountains in the distance, which will hopefully make him feel better or keep him distracted from his pain. Once Jake’s bundled Tom up in blankets and opened the balcony double doors to let the sunshine and cool breeze drift in, Tom’s back to smiling.

“Do you need more pain medication?” Jake asks, coming back to the couch to tuck a corner of the blanket underneath Tom’s side.

Tom shakes his head. “Nah. I wanna give my stomach a rest.”

“What do you want for breakfast?”

Tom shrugs. “I don’t care.”

“Alright.”

As Jake heads into the kitchen, Tom calls over: “But charge it to my room!”

That makes Jake snort. “You’re currently living with a chef. The only time I order room service is if I’m too exhausted to safely hold a knife and I’m not exhausted right now.”

To his surprise, Jake had slept very well. It had felt a little strange sharing a bed with somebody else, but his bed is large enough and neither he nor Tom moved too much, so there hadn’t been any awkward encounters. In fact, despite the bit of awkwardness, Jake had enjoyed being able to open his eyes and see Tom right across the bed from him, safe and comfortable, sleep having faded the pain from his face.

Jake’s insistence at cooking for him makes Tom chuckle. Thinking that maybe Tom had thought his dining options were limited by the room service menu, Jake wanders back to the couch. “Now that you know your dining options are limitless, did you have a special request?”

Tom’s looking up at him, his eyes sparkling as he snuggles into the blanket. “Limitless? Really?”

Jake’s smile disappears as the practicalities of that statement occur to him. “Well…if you want something really unusual, I’ll have to order those ingredients, so that won’t be ready until lunch time. But I can get most things. If it’s not in my kitchen, I’ll go downstairs.”

Tom opens his mouth, but then seems to change his mind and shuts it again.

Frowning, Jake stares at him. “What? Come on, if you have a request, then say it. Or do you think I can’t make whatever it is you’d like?”

That wouldn’t just offend Jake, it would annoy him too.

Tom snorts. “No. It’s the opposite. I want something that’s a lot more…basic than the food you like to cook. I don’t wanna offend you.”

Jake rolls his eyes, not even having to think about it before responding. “If you’ll enjoy eating it, I’ll enjoy making it.”

There’s a hesitant look on Tom’s face and he’s staring out at the scenery when he responds, maybe too embarrassed to look at Jake directly. “I wanna eat one of the meals my mom used to make for me when I was younger. Scrambled eggs on pasta. With hot dogs cut into slices. And ketchup.”

Jake blinks. He’s never heard of that ingredient combination before and it’s certainly not something he’s ever tried making or eating. But to his surprise, he’s eager to get started. Creating culinary masterpieces that respect the ingredients and combine them to bring out their strengths is usually the driving force in his life…except now, when taking care of Tom is the driving force in his life. And just like yesterday, Jake is absolutely fine with that enormous change. There’s only one question he needs the answer to. “What kind of pasta?”

“Fusilli. Sometimes she’d use rotini, but the smaller coils combine with the eggs better.”

Nodding, Jake turns to head to the kitchen. “Give me half an hour. I’ll need to get the hot dogs and ketchup from the staff cafeteria.”

“Wait!”

Turning back, Jake raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”

Tom’s staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face. “You’re really gonna make me pasta with scrambled eggs and hot dogs?”

Jake nods. What a silly question. “With ketchup. Of course.”

The smile has disappeared from Tom’s face and he’s staring at Jake very intensely. The look is making Jake uncomfortable because he doesn’t understand why Tom’s looking at him like that. “If you changed your mind, just tell me. I’ll make you whatever you want.”

Tom keeps staring at him for a while longer, until that soft smile appears on his face again. “No, I’d be really happy to eat that. It was one of my favorite dishes when I was growing up.”

Jake smiles. “Hopefully, I’ll be able to do it justice.”

That makes Tom laugh. “Oh, I’m not worried.”

Well, Tom might not be, but Jake’s a little worried. He’s accustomed to making meals without a recipe, but he’s rarely trying to replicate something that he’s never tasted or seen himself. As he’d told Tom, he has to go down to the staff cafeteria to get a package of hot dogs as well as a bottle of ketchup, which are things he never uses when cooking. It’s actually the first time he’s ever touched a hot dog and the cafeteria chef frowns at him in confusion when he asks for it, asking him three times if he knows what he’s asking for.

The hot dogs smell horrible and Jake purposefully avoids reading the ingredient list when he’s back in his kitchen and tearing open the package. To save time, he decides not to make the pasta from scratch. He’s more concerned with getting Tom fed quickly.

While he’s cooking, he overhears Tom calling his parents and a few friends. As far as Jake can tell, Tom doesn’t mention the attack to his parents but he discusses it with the friends he talks to. Based on the conversations, it seems many of these friends are also involved in the escort business and while they seem concerned over Tom’s well being, the news doesn’t seem to be received with much surprise. It’s certainly different from Jake’s own life. He doesn’t have any other friends than Tom, but if he did, telling them about being physically assaulted would be unusual enough to be greeted with alarm.

While the pasta’s cooking, he gets out his ruler and carefully cuts a few of the hot dogs into precise 3/16 inch slices, discarding the end pieces because they’re not the right shape. The little circles look boring and since Jake doesn’t want to add any elements that Tom hadn’t requested, he decides to make the meal look as nice as possible by carefully cutting the little slices into star shapes. Moving as quickly as he can, he uses his ruler to cut out five identical sized wedges from each slice. It’s difficult to get the sizes of the cuts perfect, but thankfully, he has lots of extra hot dogs.

Once the pasta’s done and the hot dogs are prepared, Jake throws it all into a pan and pours a bowl of seasoned scrambled eggs over the whole thing, stirring carefully so the solidifying eggs coat the pasta and the little hot dog slices. When he’s satisfied, he scrapes the entire meal onto a plate, grabs cutlery and the bottle of ketchup and brings it to Tom.

Tom’s watching television, but his face lights up when he sees Jake coming.

“Here you go.” Jake hands Tom the plate and cutlery and sticks the bottle of ketchup next to him on the couch. “I wasn’t sure how you prefer the ketchup to be added, so I left that for you.”

Tom’s staring at the plate with wide eyes and he lets out a delighted laugh when he stabs his fork into a hot dog slice and holds it up. “Oh, my God! You made it into a star shape?!”

Jake shrugs, smiling. “I wanted to make it look good. There’s not much that can be done with scrambled eggs and pasta, but I still wanted to make it special.”

Dropping his fork, Tom stares up at Jake and that unreadable expression from earlier is back on his face. “Thank you,” he says softly. “I know this isn’t the type of cooking you enjoy and you don’t like most of these ingredients and you still took—”

Shaking his head, Jake holds up his hand. “You enjoy this type of food and these ingredients and that’s all that matters. Taking care of you is important to me.”

He hopes that’s not inappropriate to admit, but he really can’t hide it anymore. If he’s not allowed to physically comfort Tom, then he can sooth his desperate need to take care of him by making Tom food he loves. He’ll get whatever disgusting ingredients he has to from whatever dark alleyways they’re sold in if it’ll make Tom happy. That’s something he’s never felt for anybody else before and the intensity of that desire is a little frightening.

Adding to the weirdness of the situation is that Tom’s still looking at him with that strange look on his face.

Not liking the strange twist of emotions in his stomach, Jake decides he was happier when he was doing something, so he shoots Tom a smile. “Eat up before it gets cold. I’m going to make my own breakfast. Call me if you need something.”

Tom smiles softly and stabs his fork into a bundle of pasta, eggs and hot dogs. “Okay. Thanks.”

* * *

That afternoon, Tom is feeling well enough that Jake doesn’t have the same urgent desire to miss his shift to stay by Tom’s side. When Jake asks Tom about it, Tom gives him a grin and tells him the kitchen couldn’t handle having him miss two shifts in a row and he’ll be fine. His only request is that Jake brings him some dessert.

After making Tom some dinner and making sure he has everything he could possibly need, Jake heads downstairs for work. Liying has an uncharacteristically worried frown on her face when Jake appears in the kitchen, buttoning up his white chef’s jacket.

“Are you okay?” she demands, in lieu of a greeting.

Jake smiles, touched by her concern. They’ve never been very close but after they’d learned how to work together, he’s always enjoyed sharing the pastry section with her. “I’m fine. A friend of mine required my assistance last night. I apologize for missing my shift.”

Her eyes narrow. “Your friend Mister Whore?”

Rolling his eyes, Jake grins as he rolls up his jacket sleeves, ensuring the folds are crisp and the exact same width on each fold. “The one and only, yes. I’m sorry you lost the opportunity to nag me about my friendship with him last night. To make up for it, I’ll humor you for twice as long tonight as I usually do.”

Liying is still looking at him with narrowed eyes, but she must decide she’s not as interested in the situation as she thought, because she turns away and heads off to start prep. Jake hurries up to Chef Mitra and apologizes for having missed service last night. Thankfully, she seems understanding when he explains that a friend had an emergency situation that Jake had to help with.

“There’s no need to apologize, Chef Seever. You notified us prior to service starting and it was the first time you’ve missed a shift in the five years you’ve been here. Just make sure this doesn’t become a regular occurrence.”

Jake shakes his head. “Of course not, Chef.”

Then Jake apologizes to his and Liying’s pastry assistants and tells them he’ll do the more time-consuming clean-up tasks tonight to make up for having missed yesterday. Despite the wave of protest that rises, Jake refuses to change his mind. It’s the least he can do. Missing the shift is something he still doesn’t feel guilty over, but that doesn’t mean missing a shift wasn’t inappropriate. He’s just lucky that Chef Mitra is tolerating it and that the rest of his team isn’t insisting on him being fired.

At first, Jake thinks he’ll have a difficult time focusing on service due to worrying over Tom. But thankfully, once he gets into the rhythm of doing prep, all thoughts of Tom and everything not-pastry related gets pushed out of his mind.

Service passes as quickly as it usually does and Jake’s very pleased with his team’s overall performance. Nobody had developed any bad habits during his missed shift and things move as smoothly as usual. After the last ticket is sent out, Jake prepares three plates of dessert—one for Chesa and two for Tom—and puts them in the cooler while he starts on the clean-up tasks that he’d agreed to add to his usual ones.

It’s nearly midnight by the time he goes upstairs, his chef’s jacket slung over his arm and carrying the three desserts. The hotel room’s dark when he enters, but his bedroom door’s open and a soft light is coming from it. Despite the signs that Tom may have waited up for him, Jake doesn’t know if he’s fallen asleep while waiting, so he puts the desserts into the fridge and quietly makes his way into the bedroom.

Tom’s lying propped up on pillows, but his eyes are closed. While the cuts on his face and arms look better, the bruises are starting to darken, which makes Jake’s heart squeeze painfully. Once again, he’s overcome with the desire to pull Tom into his arms and kiss his bruises away and make the cuts fade with gentle touches. Unfortunately, that’s not an option—and it wouldn’t work anyway—and Jake tangles his hands in his chef’s jacket before he grabs Tom inappropriately. Quietly going to his closet, Jake starts to get changed, tossing his clothes into his laundry hamper and pulling on his pajamas.

Halfway through pulling his pajama top on, Tom stirs. “Hey.”

Jake turns around, pulling the shirt down and making a face. “Hi. I’m sorry if I made too much noise. I should have changed in the living room. I’ll do that tomorrow.”

Tom shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. I wanted to wait up for you but I took more pain medication and I guess I drifted off.”

“How do you feel?”

Making a face, Tom shrugs. “Better but not by much.” Then his face clears and he grins. “So…did you bring me dessert?”

Jake laughs. “Of course I did. In fact, I brought you two.”

Tom’s grin widens. “Can I eat one now?”

“Sure. Let me get it for you.”

Heading into the kitchen in his bare feet, Jake takes one of the desserts out and grabs a spoon. Once he’s brought it to Tom, he heads into the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for bed. When he’s back in the bedroom, Tom’s still slowly making his way through the dessert, smiling as he licks the spoon clean after every bite.

“Have I told you I love your chocolate mousse?” He mumbles around the spoon, his eyes shining.

Jake chuckles and gets into bed, trying to keep his movements as minimal as possible. “Yes, you’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

“Yum, yum, yum. I know I’ve eaten this a bunch of times already, but I really like it. Can you put it back on rotation in a few months?”

Jake smiles. “Sure. I’ll change the lemon coulis to raspberry and make some plating changes so it’ll look like something brand new but it’ll taste pretty similar.”

That makes Tom grin as he carefully swirls the spoon around the plate, scooping up every last pastry crumb and drizzle of coulis. “Thanks.”

As usual, Jake has that happy, proud glow in his chest when he knows somebody is enjoying something he’d made. But for some reason, that glow is even more intense than it usually is. He’s spending more time watching Tom than the plate and it occurs to him that he’s more happy that Tom’s happy, rather than the fact that Tom’s happy because he’s eating Jake’s dessert. Once again, he loves knowing that he’s taking care of Tom. He’s providing for him and making him happy and it feels like Jake’s accomplishing a mission that’s tremendously important to him. It’s something he’s never felt before but none of these feelings scare him. That happy glow is taking up too much room to allow for any fear.

When Tom’s cleaned the plate to his liking, Jake brings it out to put into the dishwasher before helping get Tom ready for sleep. As Jake’s settling down on his own pillow, he notices Tom’s staring at him. Frowning, Jake feels panic clutch his heart again. “Are you alright? Do you need something?”

Tom’s giving him a strange look and he’s chewing on his lower lip, which is unusual. “I…wanted to ask you for a favor.”

Jake nods. “Just tell me what you need and I’ll do it.” It’s surprising that he really means it. He doesn’t care what Tom will ask for—Jake will do it.

Tom frowns, looking worried. “It’s not something that you usually like doing, but I—”

“I’ll do it. Whatever it is, if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll do it.”

Tom stares at him for a long moment, first looking stunned by Jake’s words, then getting that strange, intense look on his face that he had this morning after Jake had made him his special breakfast.

“I’m serious, Tom. Even if I’m not completely comfortable doing it, I’ll still do it. Just tell me what it is.”

It seems to take Tom another few beats to gather his courage, but then he blurts out: “Can we cuddle? Just a little?”

Excitement makes Jake’s heart race and he’s nodding frantically. He’s probably acting way too eager, but he can’t help it. Is he finally going to get permission to touch Tom the way he’s been dying to do?!

But Tom still looks worried. “I know you’re not a fan of physical contact like that, but I really need...”

Jake’s still nodding, his heart racing from excitement. “We can do that. We can absolutely do that.” Then the practicalities creep into his head and he frowns. “But you’ll have to give me clear directions. I’ve hugged my parents from time to time, but I’ve never cuddled with somebody. I don’t really understand the mechanics.”

Tom’s gaping at him. “Are you serious?”

Jake shrugs, feeling a little embarrassed. “Yes. I’m sorry if that’s disappointing, but you know I’m not familiar with that type of physical contact.”

“No, I mean—are you serious that you’d be willing to cuddle with me?”

Jake blinks. Oh, so Tom wasn’t making fun of him. That makes him feel better and he’s back to being excited. “Yes, absolutely. But I’ll require exact directions, especially because of your injuries. I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.”

Tom’s strange look has been replaced by his normal smile and his eyes are shining. “Okay.”

Despite being excited, Jake’s also apprehensive. He’s never done this before and he’s generally not comfortable with physical contact, so the chances that this will go well are slim. But he really wants to try. He thinks he’ll enjoy cuddling with Tom and the only way to get better at it is to learn and practice.

Rolling onto his back, Jake glances at Tom. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

“Just stay where you are.”

That’s something Jake can easily do. Tom sits up and slowly shifts over, wincing as he does it. Seeing him in pain makes Jake’s heart clench and his hands shake with the need to make Tom feel better. Well, in just a few seconds, he’ll hopefully have added another skill to his arsenal that he can use to help Tom. Sliding over, Tom pushes the blanket off Jake’s chest and slowly lies down, his head and one of his arms slung across Jake’s chest, Jake’s shirt lightly rubbing over his chest as Tom shifts.

Immediately, tension makes Jake’s body seize up. It feels so strange to have a warm body pressed up against his own. During sex, his arousal keeps him distracted, but there’s no distraction now. He’s very aware of every part of his body that’s being touched by Tom’s. Tom’s warm leg is pressed against his own and the weight of Tom’s head and arm on his chest feel so strange. Jake’s heart is hammering in his chest and he’s frozen with tension. He wants to get away from Tom and the strange discomfort, but he remembers how desperate he’d been to comfort Tom like this. This is clearly something that was better in his imagination than in reality…

…but there’s no reason to think that this discomfort will be permanent. Lots of people cuddle and they enjoy it. Tom certainly does. Jake always sees him hugging Chesa and slinging his arm over her shoulders and she seems to enjoy it. He often sees people hugging or touching each other when he’s walking around the hotel or out in public and the people involved are always smiling. So hopefully, Jake will also enjoy it once he gets used to it. Because the alternative is that Jake will never enjoy physical contact and that’s a depressing thought. This is definitely something he wants to work on. He’s not willing to call it quits just because he’s tense and very uncomfortable right now.

But his internal debate with himself is interrupted by Tom shifting off him.

Jake blinks. “Are…is that all? Was that sufficient?”

Tom sits up and smiles sadly. “Not really, but you’re uncomfortable and I’m not gonna do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I’ll be fine.”

Having Tom suddenly pull away from him is leaving Jake feeling cold and weird and that adds to his determination to keep working at this. “I _was_ uncomfortable, but I really do want to do this.”

Tom sighs softly. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do.”

“But that’s the point. I _do_ want to do this. I want to hug you and cuddle with you. I think it’ll feel very nice. Unfortunately, despite my brain wanting to do it, my body doesn’t. But I think it’s only because my body’s not used to it.”

Tom still looks doubtful and he’s made no move to touch Jake, so Jake searches for an appropriate metaphor. “It’s like blue cheese.”

That makes Tom frown. “What?”

“Blue cheese has a very overwhelming taste, doesn’t it?”

“Yes…what the hell does that have to do with cuddling?”

“Directly? Nothing. But I think it’s an accurate comparison. If somebody’s never tried blue cheese before and they don’t know what to expect, the intense flavor is overwhelming. It’s instinct for them to declare that they don’t like it because they’re reacting out of shock. But if people eat a little bit of it at a time and it’s part of dishes that are complimented well with the cheese, they’ll get used to it. The intensity of the flavor fades and they can begin to appreciate the complex aspects of the cheese.”

Tom shoots him a look. He doesn’t seem impressed by Jake’s brilliant logic. “I don’t want you to force yourself to get used to cuddling.”

Shaking his head, Jake props himself up on his elbows. Now that he’s finished working through his own thoughts, he’s more certain than ever that this will end up being a good thing for him. “If it’s something I really want to get better at, then I’ll happily put up with some displeasure to get there. Not everything in life is enjoyable from the first minute you do it. You taught me that with blow jobs. I didn’t like it the first few times we did it, but I started to enjoy it when I got more familiar with it and got better at it.”

There’s still a doubtful frown on Tom’s face. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, absolutely. But I completely understand if you’re not willing to put up with the amateur level of cuddling that I’ll be providing.”

That makes Tom chuckle. “Just having you be willing to do this for me will make it feel great.” Then Tom’s smile disappears. “But if it gets unbearable uncomfortable, you have to tell me and we’ll stop. I don’t want the situation getting worse.”

Jake nods. “I’ll tell you, I promise.”

Tom takes a deep breath and stares down at Jake. Once again, he has that strange look on his face, but he finally shakes his head. “You’re really something else, Jake Seever,” he mutters.

Jake laughs. “I hope it’s a good ‘something else’.”

“Oh, definitely. You ready?”

Nodding, Jake lies back down. When Tom lies down on him again, Jake’s surprised to find that it feels a little less strange than it did last time. The tension comes flooding back and shivers run up and down his arms and back, but having known where Tom would put his various body parts keeps his heart rate calmer than last time.

He knows Tom can feel his tension, so he decides to share the little progress he’s already made to help Tom feel at ease with the situation. “My heart isn’t racing like it was the last time you laid down. See? We’re seeing improvement already.”

His voice is tight and he’s having trouble breathing due to the tension squeezing his body, but he refuses to give up.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tom mumbles against his chest, his breath warming Jake’s shirt and the skin beneath. There are two competing voices in Jake’s head; one constantly saying ‘stop, stop, stop’ and the other saying ‘this is great, this is great, this is great’. The conflicting emotions are making him even more tense, but he’s hoping that pushing through will eventually make that tension fade.

“Jake?”

Right, Tom had asked him if he’s okay. “No, but I’ll hopefully start feeling better when I get more used to it.”

“Want me to distract you a bit?”

That grumpy, unhappy voice in his head immediately pleads ‘yes, yes, yes, anything to stop this torture’ and Jake nods. “Yes, please.”

“Tell me about your shift. How did Liying react to you missing shift yesterday?”

“She was actually quite concerned. She correctly assumed it had something to do with you but once she realized I was fine, she appeared to lose interest in the situation.”

Tom chuckles. “So everything was normal, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me who ordered what dessert.”

Jake frowns. That will take ages. “You should get some rest. My silly issues can wait until you’re feeling better.”

“I spent half the day napping and I dozed while waiting for you, so I’m actually not that tired. If you’re tired, then we can stop.”

There’s no way Jake can go to sleep when he’s this tense and he also doesn’t want Tom to move away from him, so the choice is clear. “Table 11 was the first to order dessert. We’d only served a few appetizers, so they must have come just for the desserts.”

Tom laughs. “Smart people. Good job, Table 11. What did they order?”

Warming to the topic, Jake settles into talking and trying to breathe normally. Sometimes he loses track of what he’s saying because he gets overwhelmed with Tom’s warm body touching his own and how strange it feels, but then Tom will gently steer his thoughts back to calmer waters by asking him questions.

Time slowly slips by. Jake slowly moves through every table’s order—remembering every table’s order is a skill he’d developed without being aware of it when he’d started working at the restaurant—and Tom had been right that the distraction helps. As Jake focuses on recalling every dessert and other notable incidents in the kitchen, he has less time to worry about his discomfort. Tom seems to be doing his best not to move and that helps Jake get accustomed to his presence. It still feels weird, but it already feels much better than it did when they’d started.

When he’s done listing the orders that he and Liying had served, a random thought pops into Jake’s head. This entire time, he’s kept his arms sprawled out on either side of him, not knowing what to do with them. But he remembers his desire to wrap his arms around Tom and while actually doing that fills him with apprehension, he really wants to try. “Tom?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I wrap my arms around you?”

Jake’s been listening to Tom breathing quietly and warming his shirt and he feels it when Tom’s breath catches. “You sure? You don’t have to.”

“I’m sure. I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to stand it, but I want to try.”

“Okay, go ahead.” Tom’s voice is very soft.

That’s easier said than done. A wave of anxiety rushes through him, making Jake tense even more. “How—where—I don’t know how I should move my arms. Where should I put them?”

“Just wrap your arms around my back.”

That still leaves Jake with too many questions. “What should I do with my hands?”

“You can keep them flat against my back. Or curl them up if that’s more comfortable. Just don’t squeeze me too tight, okay?”

“Yes, of course.”

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Jake slowly lifts his arms and carefully wraps them around Tom. His arms are so tense that his hands are clenched into fists and it’s difficult to spread his fingers. What’s even more difficult is lightly pressing his flat hands against Tom’s back. It’s bizarre to feel Tom’s body rising and falling under his arms as he breathes. His shirt is soft under Jake’s hands and Tom just feels so…solid in his arms.

This is completely different from giving his mom or dad casual hugs. Those casual hugs don’t have enough contact for somebody to really feel the shape of somebody else’s body. It’s not something Jake’s ever dealt with during sex either. He prefers to bottom and his main focus is always to get to the sex part and stay there as long as possible. Even before he started having sex exclusively with Tom, he’d never explored his partners’ bodies in detail. Having Tom against him like this and surrounding him with his own body feels so much more intimate than anything else Jake has ever done with another human being.

“You okay?” Tom asks quietly.

“I’m actually enjoying this. I know I’m still very tense and the cuddle is terrible quality, but I actually really like this.”

Tom chuckles quietly. “I’m glad. And it’s not terrible. Not by a long shot.”

Jake rolls his eyes. “Sure and tomorrow, I’m running the sauté station.”

That makes Tom laugh again. “I’m not kidding. This is really nice.”

Smiling, Jake looks down and stares at the top of Tom’s head. He’s so grateful that Tom has given him this opportunity. Already, Jake feels less tense than he did when they’d started. He’s still tense and his body is still insisting that this is a very strange activity that he shouldn’t be engaged in, but a little joy is started creep past that tension. The presence of that joy makes Jake think that he’d made the right decision. With more practice, he’ll end up enjoying cuddling Tom as much in reality as he did in his imagination.


	6. Chapter 6

“—and then I’ll fill each of the lemon meringue bowls with lemon curd. That’ll be a lot of lemon, so I think I’ll stick some fresh raspberries on top of the curd. Oh, and some gingersnaps for texture?” Jake mutters to himself as he lounges on his couch, a pad of paper and a pencil in his hands as he plans out next week’s desserts. Tom’s resting next to him, sitting close enough that his leg is pressed against Jake’s. It’s making Jake tense, but when Tom had shifted to move away, Jake had asked him to stay and grabbed the paper and pencil from the coffee table to distract himself.

Frowning down at his crude drawing of the lemon meringue dessert that he wants to make, Jake taps the pencil against his lips. Tom’s thigh is very solid and warm against his own and it’s enormously distracting, but so is his dessert.

It takes him a second to realize why he’s unhappy with the dessert in its current form. “You know what? That’s entirely too much lemon for my taste. Let’s do a raspberry curd instead and that’ll add a nice pink color into the dessert. I can top it with fresh raspberries and blueberries. The blueberries will add some sweetness to cut through the acidity and they’ll introduce another color element.”

Tom’s staring at his drawing as Jake scratches out the word ‘lemon’ prior to ‘curd’ and changes it to raspberry. “It looks really cool. I love the shape of the meringue bowls. So you’re gonna do two on top of each other?”

“Yes. It’ll look exactly like a lemon and when somebody digs their spoon into it, the pink raspberry curd will ooze out.”

Grinning, Tom gently elbows Jake in the side. “Where the hell do you get these ideas from, Seever?”

Jake chuckles. “From the depth of my vast imagination, aided by a lifetime of thinking about desserts any time I was supposed to be thinking about something else.”

That makes Tom laugh. “I don’t know how I got so damn lucky.”

Jake snorts. “Are you kidding? I’m the lucky one.”

The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, but immediately after he’s said them, it occurs to him that they might seem strange or even inappropriate. The fact that Tom’s grateful for Jake’s presence in his life right now is understandable. But Jake feeling so strongly towards Tom isn’t understandable.

Sitting there frozen, Jake clutches his pencil and waits for Tom’s reaction. He desperately wants to take the words back and keep them hidden in that deep part of himself that’s developed all kinds of inappropriate feelings towards Tom. Tom’s staring at him, but Jake can’t turn his head to look at him, frozen with tension.

“Jake?”

“Yes?” Jake whispers, his voice tight.

“I need to lie down. Can I put my head in your lap?”

That’s—absolutely not what Jake was fearing Tom would say. Snapping his head over to stare at Tom with wide eyes, Jake’s nodding before he’s fully processed what Tom’s said. Despite knowing discomfort will accompany it, his desire for Tom to touch him and for him to touch Tom is even stronger than it was before.

Tom’s frowning a bit. “Are you sure? I can move to the recliner.”

“I’m sure. I’ll be tense, but I’m sure.”

That makes Tom grin and he carefully lies down, stretching out on the couch and gently resting his head on Jake’s left thigh. Like last night, the heaviness of Tom’s head is surprising and strange, but staring down at Tom makes something settle deep inside Jake. This feels so right. It’s also humbling to see Tom trusting Jake enough to put himself into such a vulnerable position.

Jake’s right hand is tightly holding the pencil while his left is clutched into a fist and pressed to his chest. He’s barely breathing, partly from tension and partly because he has no idea what he’s allowed or supposed to do next. He’s about to put his drawing pad on the couch next to him and keep working on his desserts, when Tom shifts slightly, rubbing his face against Jake’s pants.

“Jake?”

“Yes?”

“You can put your arms on me, if you want. Or you can keep them somewhere else. Whatever you want.”

The thought of touching Tom even more makes Jake’s heart race, despite his current discomfort. “Can I touch you with one hand?”

“Of course.”

That brings on the same questions as last night. “How—where should I touch you? How should I put my hand?”

“You can rest your arm on my side. If you want, you can keep your hand hanging down or put it on my stomach.”

Unclenching his fist, Jake lifts his hand and gently rests his arm on Tom’s side. Stretching out his shaking hand, he lightly presses it against Tom’s warm stomach. His heart’s hammering in his chest and he’s struggling to breathe because Tom’s stomach so warm and solid under his hand. Staring down at Tom, Jake is overwhelmed with how wonderful this feels. It also feels strange and uncomfortable, but that wonderful feeling is almost stronger than the negative feelings.

“You okay?” Tom whispers.

“I’m getting there,” he whispers back. “Are you okay?”

“I feel really good.”

Tom sounds so relieved when he says it and that makes Jake feel good too. Not only is Jake enjoying this physical contact, but so is Tom.

For a long while, Jake barely moves, staring down at Tom and feeling a strange combination of discomfort and gratefulness for Tom’s head resting on his thigh and the warmth of his stomach radiating through his shirt and heating Jake’s hand. Eventually, Tom’s breathing gets deeper and Jake assumes he’s fallen asleep. That sends another rush of happy emotions through him. It makes him feel so happy that he’s made a safe sleeping space for Tom.

Jake tries to move as little as possible so he doesn’t wake Tom. To his surprise, the tension seizing his body slowly begins to fade as he becomes accustomed to their position. Tom begins to feel like he’s a part of Jake’s body and it stops feeling so strange. It gets easier to breathe and Jake gradually relaxes against the touch. His hand is still tense from touching Tom’s stomach so lightly and Jake slowly increases the pressure of his hand until his hand is comfortably pressed against Tom. A smile spreads over Jake’s face and he’s finding himself enjoying this. In fact, he doesn’t want it to ever end.

As Tom keeps sleeping, Jake glances at his paper pad. He should be working on his desserts, but he can’t stop marveling at what he’s doing and how amazing this feels. He’s still a little tense, but holding Tom like this is even better in reality than it was in his imagination.

* * *

When Tom wakes up, he’s momentarily disoriented. He can tell he’s lying on Jake’s couch, but he has no idea whose lap he’s lying on or whose hand is touching him. Oddly enough, that thought isn’t as concerning as it should be. He just instinctively knows that if he’s in Jake’s room, he’s safe.

Speaking of Jake, a quick glance at the pants of the person he’s lying on and the watch on the wrist of the person whose hand is on his stomach tells him that it’s Jake who’s cuddling with him. Tom’s thrilled to feel that Jake’s less tense than he was when they’d started, never mind last night. At first, Tom had been worried that he was pressuring Jake into doing something he only thought he wanted to do but didn’t really want. But Jake had been so enthusiastic the entire time, his mind wanting to participate while his body rebelled.

If he’s being honest with himself, Tom knows he’s being a little selfish. He’s been craving physical contact so much in the last few days and being friends with Jake is wonderful for a lot of reasons, but cuddling is something that’s never been part of their relationship. But Jake’s enthusiasm and his desire to participate has gone a long way to making Tom feel less guilty about it. But his concern with encouraging Jake to be more physically intimate with him has another associated problem. His feelings for Jake are still growing stronger the more time they spend together, and indulging in cuddling like this is solidifying them even more.

At first, Tom had been sure that his feelings are one-sided and that had made it easier to keep more distance between them—physically and emotionally. But Jake’s actions in the last few days are things Tom’s never seen him display before. He’s known Jake for three years and there are certain principles Jake enjoys living by and he doesn’t care what other people think about them.

Jake’s never shared his bed with anybody before. He’d told Tom years ago that idea of sharing a bed with somebody didn’t just make him uncomfortable, but he disliked the idea of having to share such an important part of his living space with somebody. Being able to get a good night’s rest is important and Jake felt that sharing his bed with somebody else would lead to disrupted sleep. But Jake hadn’t even hesitated before giving Tom his bed. In fact, Jake had been willing to sleep on the chair in order to give Tom as much space on the bed as possible.

Then there’s the food Jake’s been cooking for him. Tom would happily eat whatever Jake makes for himself and he’d been annoyed at himself when he’d blurted out his request for the scrambled eggs pasta with hot dogs. He’d been sure that Jake would make excuses over why he couldn’t or didn’t want to make it—but to his shock, Jake hadn’t even hesitated. Tom knows for a fact that Jake usually never tolerates any deviations from his standards where food is concerned. Even if Jake were willing to cuddle with him and share a bed with him, the fact that Jake’s so willing to cook the type of food that he’d normally never go near is very telling.

Given all the evidence he’s collected over the last few days, Tom’s growing more and more certain that Jake’s feelings for him are going through the same rapid change that Tom’s are. The only question is whether Jake’s aware of this or not. And once he’s made aware of it, what would Jake want to do about those feelings? Tom knows what he’d like to do, but that’s not a conversation he’s ready to have. Jake seems happy with the way things are right now and Tom wants to focus on recovering and getting back to work before he opens a can of worms that might permanently alter their relationship—for better or for worse.

His thoughts abruptly grind to a halt when Jake’s phone lets out a chirp where it’s lying on the coffee table. Jake lets out an annoyed sound and tenses as if he wants to grab the phone, but stops himself when he remembers that Tom’s on his lap.

“It’s fine, Jake. I’m awake.”

“I’m sorry, I should have turned my phone to silent.”

Tom rubs Jake’s knee. “It’s fine, I was already awake. Want me to grab your phone?”

“Yes, please.”

Reaching over, Tom grabs Jake’s phone and hands it to him.

A moment later, Jake gets tense again, but it turns out to be for a good reason. “My parents sent me a video!”

Tom grins. “Yeah? Where are they?”

“In Hawaii. The hotel they’re visiting just opened a new water park inside the hotel.”

Raising his eyebrows, Tom sits up. “A waterpark inside a hotel?”

“Yes. I know it sounds crazy, but they had the room for it. My parents went for the grand opening of the park.” Jake’s smiling and his eyes are sparkling as he stares at his phone. “Would you like to watch it with me?”

“Sure!” Tom leans against Jake, monitoring his tension as he does it. Thankfully, Jake leans into him too and his eyes are glued to his phone. Pressing a button, Jake holds the phone between them as the video begins to play.

The sound of rushing water fills the room and the video shows a smiling and soaking wet Judy wearing a blue bathing suit and waving at the camera. It’s strange seeing her normally curly brown hair nearly straight due to the water.

“Hi, Jake! I just came down the slide and your father’s about to come down.”

She turns the camera and focuses on the mouth of a red waterslide as water pours out of it.

“Okay, he should be coming down any second now…just a few more seconds…oh, here he comes!”

An enormous wall of water bursts out of the slide, bringing with it a laughing and soaking wet Brian Seever. He comes down with such force that he ends up spinning around at the bottom of the slide, leaving everybody laughing.

“Wow, what an entrance, dad,” Jake mumbles, grinning.

Once Brian’s standing on his feet, he wipes the water off his face and grins at the camera. “Hi, Jake! You won’t believe this, but I got stuck!”

“What? You’re not overweight, dad,” Jake says with a laugh, as if he were talking to him in person.

“What do you mean you got stuck? The slides are designed to accommodate people twice your weight,” Judy says, laughing at him.

“No, no! I didn’t have enough water under my bum. I just sat there and I couldn’t get moving. The lifeguard had to give me a push!”

That mental image makes everybody dissolve into laughter again.

Once he’s calmed down, Jake presses his lips together. “Oh, how embarrassing. I’m glad that wasn’t me.”

Tom struggles not to laugh at Jake. In the grand scheme of things, what happened to Jake’s dad wouldn’t even qualify as embarrassing for many people. It’s times like these that reminds Tom that he and Jake have lived very different lives before they’d met.

Judy turns the camera between herself and Brian as she keeps laughing, running her hand through her hair to loosen up her curls and leave them bouncing around her head again. Brian shoots her a mock-glare and wades out of the pool, heading towards the camera. “Laughing at my embarrassment…how kind of you, Judy. Your mother is a horrible person, Jake.”

Jake and Tom both laugh and Judy nods at the camera, throwing Jake a wink. “Of course I am!”

Sighing dramatically, it’s clear that Brian’s trying hard not to laugh. “No sympathy whatsoever.”

Walking up to Judy, he takes the phone from her as he wraps his arm around her shoulder and focuses the camera so they’re both in the shot, smiling at Jake. “Alright, so the final verdict of Seever Hotel’s first water park is a definite…?”

“100 percent approval!” Judy says, giving two big thumbs up.

“Well, you heard it here first, Jake!” Brian says, grinning at the camera. “We’ll time our next trip here so it takes place over a weekend and you can come with us.”

“You’ll have a lot of fun, sweetheart!”

“Alright, it’s time for us to say goodbye and find our towels. We have another meeting to get to and sadly, that meeting isn’t taking place in the water park.”

Judy waves and blows Jake a kiss. “Bye, sweetheart! I love you and we’ll see you soon!”

Jake’s glowing as he waves at her, clearly caught up in the moment and having forgotten that this is a video the Seevers had shot a while ago. “Bye, mom!”

“Bye, Jake!” Brian says, waving. “I love you and we’ll call you tomorrow morning.”

“Okay, bye, dad!”

The video comes to a stop and Jake sits there, smiling down at his phone. The sudden silence is strange after the loud, rushing water but Tom can’t stop staring at the smile on Jake’s face.

“Looks like they had fun,” Tom says, nudging Jake’s shoulder.

Jake nods, still smiling. “Yeah. I can’t wait to go. You can come with us, if you want.”

Taken aback by the generous offer, Tom quickly shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. I don’t wanna intrude on your time with your parents.”

Jake scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous, I spend lots of time with my parents. And don’t worry about the trip being complicated. We’ll take the jet and leave Friday night, then we’ll sleep on the plane and have all day Saturday and Sunday to play in the park and Jeff will fly us back on Sunday night.”

Smiling, Tom feels that urge to kiss Jake again and carefully stays still so he doesn’t give in to the urge. “That’ll be an awesome weekend.”

Jake grins. “Yes, I’m looking forward to it.”

* * *

After getting into bed that night, Jake’s surprised to find that he’s very eager for more cuddling. They’d spent hours on the couch together and Jake had been ridiculously close to skipping his shift, just so he could stay right where he was. Now that he’s fulfilled all of his responsibilities for the day, maybe he’ll get rewarded with more cuddling? He doesn’t want to be presumptuous, especially because Tom’s still healing. But when he’s getting comfortable and glances over, he finds Tom staring at him with a hopeful look on his face.

“Would you like to cuddle?” Jake asks, his stomach flopping back and forth between excitement and dread.

Tom grins. “Yeah. Do you?”

Nodding frantically, Jake pushes the blanket down and spreads his arms, a smile tugging on his lips. His smile growing, Tom shifts over and sprawls out on top of Jake, sighing deeply as he rest his head on Jake’s chest again, gently rubbing the side of his head on Jake’s pajama top. Unlike yesterday, it feels a lot less strange to have Tom so close to him. This time, it feels familiar and although some tension creeps through him, it’s less severe than it was the day before. “Can I put my arms around you again?” Jake asks.

“Yes, please.”

That answer serves as both permission and also a request and Jake grins as he carefully wraps his arms around Tom, settling his hands on his back. He doesn’t squeeze him hard, but it’s easier than yesterday to let his arms and hands rest on Tom’s back without being hyper-focused on every part of him that’s touching Tom. Like yesterday, it’s amazing to have Tom’s solid, warm body in his arms.

“Have I mentioned that I really like doing this?” Jake mumbles.

Tom chuckles gently, his breath warming Jake’s skin through his shirt and the hand that’s curled around Jake’s side gives him a pat, which feels really nice. “I’m glad cause I really like doing this too.”

“I’m not as tense as I was yesterday.”

“Yeah, I can tell. But you’ll still tell me if you wanna stop, right?”

“Of course.”

Jake can’t stop smiling as he holds Tom. The tension slowly drains out of him, only leaving that happy glow behind. There’s no doubt that the only reason he’s settled down so quickly is because they’re doing the exact same thing they did last night, but it’s very good progress.

* * *

Jake’s pulled out of sleep a few hours later by a random noise. As he frowns around his dark bedroom, the noise comes again, and he realizes it’s Tom, whimpering in his sleep where he’s curled up on his side of the bed. He’s frowning and making soft noises of fear. Jake’s heart twists and his hand’s moving before he’s aware of it, lightly touching Tom’s shoulder. “Tom? Wake up.”

Tom startles awake, either from Jake’s words or his touch and he jerks back from Jake’s touch, staring at him with wide, panicked eyes as he sits up with a jerk. Snatching his hand back, Jake slides back on the bed, having no idea what to do and berating himself for touching Tom without permission. He’d hate if somebody did that to him and now he did it to Tom. Despite it having been an instinct, it was still wrong.

Gasping for breath, Tom stares at him, his eyes darting around the room. He’s pale, which makes the bruises on his face look even darker. “Jake?” Tom chokes out.

“Yes. I think you were having a nightmare.”

“Is—I—where—shit.”

Jake blinks, not understanding what Tom’s trying to say, but he can guess what he’s worried about. “There’s nobody here who will hurt you. That monster will never get back into any Seever Hotel, I promise.”

Tom stares at him for a long moment until some of that fear fades from his face and he slumps his shoulders. “Thanks.”

That makes Jake feel guilty again. “I’m very sorry for touching you without permission.”

“It’s fine,” Tom mumbles, scrubbing his hands over his bruised, pale face.

“No, it’s not. It was inappropriate and I’m sorry about that.”

Dropping his hands, Tom glances at him. “If you need my forgiveness, then I forgive you. But I really didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“It is to me. So thank you.”

They stay on their sides of the bed, Jake waiting to see what Tom needs from him. Eventually, Tom presses his lips together and stares at Jake intently. Jake just waits, having no idea what Tom wants, but already knowing he’ll do whatever he asks. Finally, Tom finds his words. “Can I ask for something…weird?”

“Of course.”

Tom lets out a derisive snort. “Don’t be so quick to agree. This is a weird one.”

Jake shrugs. “I don’t care. Tell me what you need and I’ll do it.” It’s still amazing to him that he truly means those words. His desire to do anything Tom needs him to do is both amazing and terrifying at the same time. Taking a deep breath, Tom chews on his lip, looking uncharacteristically nervous.

Shooting him a smile, Jake tries to be encouraging. “Tom Carlson, since when are you nervous about anything? You’ve seen and done practically everything that’s worth seeing and doing in this world.”

Despite the encouragement, it takes Tom a second to gather up his nerves. Then he’s blurting out: “Can I suck on your nipples?”

Jake blinks. Out of all the things he’d been expecting Tom to say, that one definitely wasn’t on the list. But that’s not surprising, since Jake’s list is very short—not due to a lack of desire but a lack of experience. But despite his surprise, the answer is still the same. “Of course.”

Tom frowns at him. “No, I’m sorry. Forget I asked.”

“I won’t forget it. It’s obviously important to you and I don’t mind, so go ahead.”

When Tom keeps staring at him, clearly conflicted about this, Jake decides to be the brave one and get things moving. Tom wants to suck on Jake’s nipples to make himself feel better, so that’s what they’ll do. He swiftly pulls off his pajama top and throws it onto his bedside table before lying back down, making himself comfortable. He’s not accustomed to sleeping naked and the sheets feel surprisingly nice against his skin. Maybe when Tom is sleeping in his own room again, Jake will explore if he likes sleeping naked. He thinks he’ll like that. But that wouldn’t be appropriate while he has Tom sharing his bed.

Tom’s still a little pale and staring at him uncertainly, so Jake pushes all thoughts of exploring new sleeping attire out of his mind and spreads his arms, very aware of his naked chest. The bedroom’s pleasantly warm and he feels more comfortable the longer he lies there. Thankfully, having been naked in front of Tom a hundred times makes this feel familiar.

Jake carefully watches Tom’s face. His eyes are glued to Jake’s nipples and he’s chewing on his lower lip, but the movement has slowed to a gentle pace as opposed to the harsh biting from earlier. It’s clear that Tom’s mentally at war with himself, torn over desperately wanting something that will make him feel better versus not doing something that he considers strange.

For his own part, Jake doesn’t have an opinion about this nipple sucking business yet. Thus far, his nipples have never been anything but a physical part of his body. Like his appendix, they’re there but serve no purpose. Women nipples may have a purpose, but male nipples have always seemed like a failed evolutionary experiment that nature tried and abandoned. But if these useless parts of Jake’s body will provide Tom with comfort, then they’ll earn a permanent spot on the list of ‘useful-body-parts-that-Jake-likes’. In fact, Jake’s excited to see what the experience will be like.

Since Tom can’t stop staring at his nipples with wide eyes, it’s clear that his desire hasn’t waned at all and he just needs one little push. “Come on. I know you want to do it and I’m happy to let you. Go ahead.”

From the way Tom shifts towards him, Jake knows he’d made the right decision. Even if this won’t produce pleasant feelings like when they’re cuddling, seeing how eager Tom is to do it makes Jake decide that he’ll be happy to do it whenever Tom wants. Well, as long as they’re somewhere where doing this would be appropriate. Tom leans over him and braces his hands on either side of Jake’s chest before bending down and gently swiping his tongue over Jake’s left nipple. The sudden jolt of arousal that races through him is completely unexpected and Jake lets out a gasp.

Tom jerks his head back and frowns down at him. “You okay?”

His eyes wide with surprise, Jake nods as tension floods him, but it’s the nice kind of tension he usually associates with sex. Oh, he’s definitely okay. “Yes.”

Bending down, Tom swipes his tongue over Jake’s nipple again, which sends another shiver of arousal through him and Jake lets out a soft sound. He can’t believe this is happening! He had no idea his nipples were capable of making him feel like this.

Growing bolder, Tom licks over his nipple with more pressure. The wet warmth of Tom’s tongue feels amazing and his nipple begins to tingle pleasantly as arousal slowly spreads through him. It reminds him of getting a blow job, but on a smaller scale. Then Tom switches things up and wraps his lips around Jake’s nipple, sucking gently. The pressure and warmth rapidly builds Jake’s arousal and he can’t help the moan he lets out as his cock begins to stiffen. Oh, this is amazing!

Tom keeps sucking. To Jake’s surprise, he feels that his nipple has hardened into a small, tight peak, which Tom eagerly keeps sucking on. The longer he does it, the more sensitive the little bud seems to become and when Tom holds his nipple between his lips and flicks his tongue against the tip of it, sparks race through Jake and he digs his hands into his sheets, clutching them. His heart’s racing and he can’t keep still, his hips begin to thrust gently. And that’s before he glances down and sees Tom’s lips wrapped around his nipple, his lips shiny with spit. His face is relaxed and his eyes are closed as a small smile curls the corners of his lips.

Jake can’t believe how much he loves this. Not only does it feel amazing, but Tom’s clearly enjoying himself and his nightmare has been pushed into the past. When Tom abruptly lifts his head, Jake can’t help the small, disappointed whine that comes out of his mouth.

Tom grins down at him, his eyes sparkling. “That feels good, huh? I didn’t know if your nipples were sensitive, but this makes it so much better.”

Jake lets out a breathy laugh. “I didn’t know either. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Those words result in Tom’s eyes darkening as he gets that intense look on his face again. Then he grins and dives down for Jake’s other nipple. Not only does that make Jake mentally send out a cheer, but he realizes he’s completely forgotten that he has two of these amazing things!

As Tom begins licking his other nipple, the cool air drifts over his other nipple, which is tingling. Jake glances down and he can’t decide what he likes staring at more: Tom licking his nipple or how stiff and wet the other one looks. Then Tom makes things even better by bringing his hand to the abandoned nipple and gently rubbing it between his fingers. It’s so sensitive, that the little movements send intense shivers of arousal through Jake and he’s moaning happily, his cock fully hard and aching as much as his nipples.

When Tom moves onto sucking the other nipple—which has also hardened into a nice, firm peak—he begins pinching the other one, alternating the pinches with gently rolling it in his fingers.

“Oh, God,” Jake groans out, clutching the sheets underneath him and bringing his knees up so he can thrust properly, not caring that he’ll probably come in his pajama pants. Tom lets out a soft moan, the sound vibrating through Jake’s nipple. It’s one of the most intimate and incredible sexual moments Jake’s ever had.

Tom moves back and forth between his nipples, dragging the tip of his tongue between his nipples as he switches between them. Both of his nipples always have Tom’s warm mouth on them or Tom’s fingers, twisting, rolling and pinching the sensitive buds. Abruptly, Tom shifts over him and settles between Jake’s legs, pressing his equally hard cock against Jake’s; only their pajama pants separating them. Feeling that Tom’s as turned on as he is, Jake cries out and thrusts hard against Tom, lifting his chest to keep Tom’s mouth and hands as close to him as he can.

Lifting his head, Tom braces himself above Jake and stares down at him, his eyes blown wide. “How the fuck do you do this to me, Jake Seever?” he whispers, his voice shaking.

Jake stares up at him, shaking with arousal and thrusting against Tom. He has no idea how to respond to the question, but thankfully, Tom lets out a low groan and dives down for Jake’s nipples again, sucking hard.

When Tom raises his head again, he’s shaking as hard as Jake. “What do you want? Tell me.”

The answer to that is easy. “Whatever you want,” Jake whispers.

His eyes glowing with heat, Tom sits up and yanks his shirt and pants off. “Pants off.”

Jake eagerly lifts his hips and shoves his pants off, carefully lifting the waistband over his aching cock. The pants already have a big wet spot and his cock’s shiny from the pre-cum it’s been leaking steadily.

Tom moans softly when he sees Jake’s cock and he shifts closer to Jake, slotting his hard cock against Jake’s and thrusting gently. Watching Tom’s cock right next to his and feeling it brushing against his own cock is something Jake’s never experienced before and he shivers hard, letting out a choked cry. Bending down, Tom keeps his cock pressed against Jake’s as he thrusts his hips, rubbing their cocks together as he wraps his warm, wet lips back over Jake’s nipple. It’s not enough for Jake to come, but he’s happy to stay here however long Tom lets him. It makes him feel so happy that Tom’s using his body to make himself feel better and that it also feels incredible for Jake.

Tom can’t seem to keep his lips off his nipples for long, sucking and licking hard, moving back and forth between them and moaning happily. Whenever he lifts his head to stare at Jake’s nipples, his eyes are shining and he’s smiling. Their cocks are slick as they rub against each other and Jake’s never felt this turned on before in his entire life.

Eventually, Tom lifts his head and reaches down, wrapping his hand around both of them and fisting them hard. “Lemme see you come, Jake. I wanna feel it.”

And a few solid pulls is all he needs and his body seizes up as he comes, Tom’s hand jerking him through his orgasm. Before he’s done, Tom lets out a soft sound and his eyes drop shut as he comes, the warmth of his cum spurting across Jake’s stomach and mingling with his own.

When they’re both done, Tom sits up and grabs his pajama top with shaking hands, gasping hard as he wipes them clean. That’s when Jake remembers that he’s not paying Tom for this and Tom’s not providing a service that Jake had requested, so Jake should do his part to help with the aftermath.

Once Tom’s wiped him clean and Jake’s gotten his breath back, he slowly pushes himself up and slides off the bed. “I’ll go get some water.”

He stumbles to his ensuite and unwraps the plastic wrapping from the two cups Chesa always puts in there for him. Once he’s gotten the water and brought it back to Tom, they drain the water and collapse on the bed. They land on their own sides of the bed, but when Jake rolls over onto his back, he sees Tom staring at his nipples still.

Jake grins. “If you want more, go for it.”

He won’t get it up again for a while, but his nipples are still tingling pleasantly and if Tom will enjoy it too, Jake will happily let Tom suck on his nipples all night.

A bright smile lighting up his face, Tom shifts closer to him and wraps his arm around Jake’s side as he gently seals his lips around one of Jake’s nipples, sucking lightly and rubbing the tip of his tongue over it. Jake can’t help but moan softly, his nipple so sensitive that he can feel every tiny swipe of Tom’s tongue and it tingles pleasantly when he changes the suction pressure of his lips.

It really seems that Tom loves doing this as much as Jake loves letting him, because he keeps going for a while. The licking and sucking doesn’t have that same sense of urgency as it did before. It’s a slow, lazy pace that keeps arousal gently simmering in his gut. Tom lets out soft moans from time to time and often lays his head on Jake’s chest, watching his fingers rubbing the little buds.

As time goes by, Tom spends more time just lying on Jake’s chest and his hand is resting on Jake’s skin, his thumb gently rubbing back and forth over his nipple. Jake watches him and notices Tom’s eyes are beginning to droop. It makes Jake feel amazing that he’d played a small part in making Tom feel better after his nightmare. He stays still, keeping his arms down by his sides and watching Tom. Eventually, Tom’s thumb stops moving on his nipple and his eyes fall closed as he drifts into sleep.

Despite how late it is, Jake’s not tired at all and he stays awake for a while, surprisingly comfortable. His nipples are tingling and he’s completely relaxed, all of his earlier tension having faded away as he watches Tom sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recipe Link: [Lemon Meringue Bombs](https://youtu.be/JTGUJK1xsng)


	7. Chapter 7

By the next morning, Tom has shifted off Jake but he’s curled up right next to Jake, his head pressed against Jake’s arm.

Looking down at him, Jake once again has that very strong urge to kiss him. It’s strange that the urge isn’t connected to seeing Tom in pain. Wanting to kiss Tom out of a desire to provide comfort is perfectly reasonable, but Tom’s not in pain right now. Yet, Jake still wants to kiss him. He can’t make sense of the urge, never having felt like this about anybody before. Thankfully, that’s when Tom shifts and rolls onto his back, opening his eyes and groaning loudly.

“Good morning,” Jake says softly.

Tom blinks at him sleepily and grins. “Morning.”

For some reason, Jake keeps staring at Tom’s lips and that reminds him of what they’d done last night. His nipples are a little sore and every time he shifts even slightly, the blanket drags across them, making them tingle.

“How you feeling?” Tom mumbles.

Jake grins. “I feel great. I had no idea my nipples could provide such entertainment.”

Tom chuckles. “I’m happy you liked it. It really helped make me feel better.”

It occurs to Jake that this is the first time he’s learned something about Tom’s sexual preferences. Due to their usual sexual encounters being scenarios where Jake’s paying Tom for sex, they’d always focused on Jake’s desires. That’s completely reasonable and that’s the whole point of paying Tom to have sex with him, but Jake finds himself curious about what else Tom might enjoy that he’s never told him about. For the first time in his life, Jake is interested in somebody else’s sexual desires, even if they might not line up with his. “Tom?”

“Hmm?”

“If you have other…things you’d like to do together, then I’d be interested in that.”

Tom shifts and when Jake glances over, he’s grinning but his eyebrows are raised. “Really?”

“Yes.”

When Tom’s quiet for a while, Jake glances at him. Tom looks wide awake and he’s looking at Jake with that intense stare again. Abruptly, he shifts towards Jake, before freezing mid-motion.

Jake stares at him, not understanding what Tom’s doing or thinking. “If you don’t want to, then that’s fine. But I really enjoyed it and I’m interested in learning more about what you like.”

Tom’s eyes are huge and his jaw is clenched, before he slowly lies back down and smiles softly. “I’d like that.”

Tom’s strange attitude is a little puzzling, but when Tom slides up next to Jake and presses his face against Jake’s arm again, it seems things are alright.

* * *

Mentally berating himself, Tom keeps his face pressed against Jake’s arm and tries to calm down.

He’d nearly kissed Jake. He’d been inches away from bending down and kissing him. That…wouldn’t have been appropriate. At all. Jake’s not a fan of kissing and they hadn’t discussed kissing at all, so even if Jake seems to be in an adventurous mood these days, Tom has no right to do things that he hasn’t agreed to.

They really need to talk about things. But on a selfish note, Tom wants to keep staying with Jake for a few more days and if their conversation doesn’t go in a good direction, he’ll be forced to leave. He’s healing nicely and he’ll be ready to go back to work in a few days, but it’s so nice staying in Jake’s room and he wants to keep living in his comfortable bubble for a while.

In the morning, they have breakfast with Chesa and once she’s done cleaning Jake’s room and leaves for the other rooms, he and Jake relax on the couch and watch a movie. Tom’s ridiculously comfortable; lying with his head on Jake’s lap with Jake’s arm slung over his side. Jake feels much more relaxed than he usually does and his hand is gently rubbing Tom’s stomach through his shirt.

Feeling so relaxed makes Tom think about when he wants to go back to work. He knows how disappointed his clients are that he’s had to cancel a week’s worth of sessions already and he doesn’t want to deprive them any longer than necessary. Plus, the more sessions he cancels, the higher the chance that they’ll find somebody else and Tom really likes his current group of clients. But he wants to ease back into it and that means not doing the clients who require a more…energetic performance than others. Clients like Virgin Guy and Sex Toy Enthusiast are easy, but clients like Jake and Spanking Guy require a lot more energy. “Jake?”

“Yes?”

“I’m thinking of going back to work next week. I’ll probably just do a few of my easier clients first so I don’t overdo it. Do you mind if we wait to resume our sessions until the week after?”

Jake gets a little tense and his hand presses harder against Tom’s stomach. “Of course I don’t mind. I agree that you should take it easy at first. But…you’re really going to go back to work?”

Tom frowns, not understanding Jake’s strange reaction. Jake’s never expressed any jealousy or resentment towards Tom’s job. Maybe that’s changed now that Jake’s feelings towards him have changed? Maybe—

But Jake keeps talking, interrupting Tom’s thoughts. “What if you get attacked again?”

Oh. Understanding Jake’s concerns, Tom relaxes again. “Then I’ll deal with it, just like I did this time. It’s an occupational hazard.”

Jake’s still tense and his hand tangles in Tom’s shirt. “It’s a hazard you can avoid entirely if you changed careers.”

Tom smiles softly. “Would you want to change your career just because you get cut and burned from time to time?”

That silences Jake for a moment. Finally, he lets out a soft breath. “That’s a fair point.”

“And I take all the precautions I can possibly take. I’ve made mistakes when I was younger—I’m sure you did too—and I learned how to do things as safely as possible while still doing the job I love. You know how carefully I screen my clients. I reject way more people than I accept. And this situation had nothing to do with me misjudging a client.”

“What actually happened?”

Oh, right. Jake never asked him how the attack had occurred. Tom doesn’t really want to discuss it, but he wants to make it clear that this situation was unique and isn’t likely to be repeated. “Peter was fine when he was a client. Unfortunately, his wife discovered what he was doing and she divorced him. It was a big public spectacle that dragged Peter’s name through the mud in all the tabloids.”

Jake shifts. “Wait, wait, wait. Peter Ruston. Was he the individual whose pre-nuptial agreement included that clause about infidelity?”

“Yep, that’s him.”

“I knew I recognized his name! I remember reading about that. Oh! So you were the ‘mistress’?!”

Tom chuckles. “Yeah. I guess the wife didn’t want the details about my gender going public, but she didn’t mind everything else going public, especially because it humiliated him. She caught him cheating so she got three-quarters of everything in the divorce. It’s exactly what he deserves.”

“So…why was he upset with you? He’s the idiot who agreed to that pre-nuptial agreement and then broke it, despite knowing what would happen.”

Tom sighs softly and rubs his face on Jake’s thigh. Memories of the attack slowly come back to him and his stomach clenches. It’s instinct to shift back until he’s pressed against Jake. Maybe Jake can sense the change in his mood because his hand resumes rubbing his stomach.

“He’s the type of guy who’s arrogant enough to sign something like that and believe that he’ll never get caught. Getting caught was a huge blow to his ego, never mind having his wife enforce what he’d agreed to. He was humiliated and he decided to take it out on me.”

Jake’s arm tightens against his side. “I really want him to pay for what he did to you.”

Jake’s voice is shaking and he sounds angrier than Tom’s ever heard him. Hearing that protective tone in his voice, together with the solid warmth of Jake’s body surrounding him makes Tom feel so damn safe. But even though he’s ready to put the whole situation behind him, it seems Jake isn’t there yet. “You have to let it go.”

“I have an army of lawyers who won’t rest until he’s in jail. I don’t care how many lawyers he can afford; you know I can afford ten times more.”

Smiling softly, Tom reaches out and puts his hand on Jake’s knee, rubbing it with his thumb. “First of all, you know I could afford my own lawyers if I wanted to. Second, I know you’d hire me an army of lawyers, but I don’t want you doing that.”

“But why?”

Out of the blue, Jake’s other hand starts lightly skimming through Tom’s hair and he can’t help but eagerly shift his head against Jake’s fingers. In response, Jake increases the pressure, lightly massaging his scalp while his other hand rubs his stomach.

Closing his eyes, Tom drifts in the warm, safe bubble that Jake’s created for him. “Because it’s not worth it. If I go to the police or if I sue him, he’ll fight. The only way to prove my case would be to admit that I work as a prostitute. I’d be humiliated and all of my clients would flee, scared that I’ll out them. And forget about getting new clients. If I’m outed as an escort, I won’t get the clients I have now and I’m not going back to working for crap clients through agencies. I’ve spent years building up my reputation and turning my business into something I’m proud of. I don’t want to lose all that just to shove Ruston down a peg or two.”

Jake’s quiet, still tense.

“Besides, if all this goes public, it’ll lead to me getting charged too.”

That makes Jake sigh. “I always forget that it’s illegal. It’s ridiculous.”

Tom smiles. They’ve had this discussion many, many times. “You know I agree with you. But despite how strongly we feel about it, the law’s the law. If I choose to live outside of it, then the law can’t help me when I decide I need help. And I’m fine with that. I told you, this rarely happens and this particular situation was really unique. I always coach my married clients how to keep their cheating hidden and most of them listen to me.”

Jake doesn’t respond, his hands tense as they rub his stomach and head.

“If you’re unhappy with any of this, then we can talk about it,” Tom says.

“I just…I understand your reasoning and I agree with you. It’s the most logical way to proceed and you’re right that this one incident isn’t worth destroying your entire career over. I just wish we could have it both ways.”

Tom smiles. “I think we will. Guys like Ruston love thinking that they’re the center of everybody’s universe. Nothing makes them harder than seeing somebody suffer because of the control they have over them. So nothing pisses them off more than somebody moving on with their lives when they tried to destroy them. Me going back to work and continuing to have a successful career is the ultimate slap in the face for somebody like Ruston.”

“I like that.”

Chuckling, Tom nuzzles Jake’s thigh. “I thought you would.”

“So we’re not just moving on, but we’re also leaving Ruston behind.”

“Exactly.”

* * *

While Jake’s making Tom lunch, he thinks about what else he can do to cheer Tom up. Tom’s doing a good job pretending to be fine with everything, but Jake can tell that talking about the attack has upset him. Providing physical comfort seems to be helping, but Jake wants to do something extra special for him. After eating lunch together, Jake asks Tom to stay out of the kitchen so he can make him a surprise.

Tom’s bright smile tells Jake that the work he’s about to embark on will definitely be worth it and he gets to work creating Tom a delicious chocolate dessert. Since Tom loves his chocolate mousse, Jake makes a big bowl full of it, but he wants to present it in a unique way. As he’s staring at a glass sitting on his counter, he gets a great idea. He’ll make Tom a chocolate cup filled with chocolate mousse. The entire thing will be edible.

Tempering the chocolate goes quickly. He decides to prepare one batch of white chocolate and one batch of dark chocolate, which will nicely compliment the chocolate mousse. The white chocolate is put into a piping bag and Jake carefully pipes out intricate cup handles on acetate. Just in case a few break, he makes five different handles. He spreads some of the dark chocolate over the back of a plastic wrap covered saucer plate, which will create a nice chocolate saucer. Once that’s setting, he wraps a piece of acetate around the smooth glass that was the inspiration for this dessert and marks off the edges. Then he spreads dark chocolate over the marked rectangle shape on the acetate and once he’s covered the glass with parchment paper, he wraps the acetate around the glass to set.

Once the chocolate is firm, he carefully removes the chocolate cylinder and saucer from their molds and uses some melted chocolate to glue them together. Lastly, he examines his cup handles and picks his favorite before gently gluing it to the side of the cup with chocolate. With his cup assembled, he pipes the airy chocolate mousse into it, filling it almost to the brim. He quickly makes some whipped cream and pipes a generous portion on top of the chocolate mousse, letting it tower out of the cup. The final touch is using the leftover white chocolate to pipe decorations on the side of the cup and grating the leftover dark chocolate to make chocolate shavings to top the whipping cream. Transferring the cup and saucer to a plate, he measures to ensure he’s placing it into the very center of the plate and he covers the rest of the plate with chocolate shavings. After examining it from every angle, Jake decides he’s happy with his creation and it’s ready to be presented to Tom. “Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“I hope you’re ready for dessert.”

Tom laughs. “You know I’m always ready for dessert, especially one of yours.”

“I don’t know where you want to eat it so come here and make the decision.”

Moments later, Tom appears in the kitchen. “What did you—” His eyes light up. “Oh, that looks great! You made me hot chocolate?”

Chuckling, Jake gently pushes the plate closer to him. “You’re very far off. Look closer.”

Tom bends down and stares at the dessert before his eyebrows fly up and his smile grows even bigger. “Is the cup made out of chocolate?!”

“Yes. The entire thing’s edible. The cup and saucer are made out of chocolate and it’s filled with chocolate mousse.”

“Oh, my God!” Tom’s carefully rotating the plate, staring at it in awe. “It’s adorable! What an awesome idea. I can’t believe this! You know it’s always a struggle to eat the beautiful things you make, but seriously—I wanna stare at this forever but also dig in.”

Jake laughs, thrilled at Tom’s reaction. “Go ahead and eat it. I can make you another one whenever you want.”

Tom’s eyes are shining and he turns to stare at Jake. “I can’t believe you made this for me.”

“You know I like making things that people will enjoy.”

Shaking his head, Tom’s still staring at him. His smile has gone soft. “This is a lot more than that. This isn’t the type of dessert you’d serve in the restaurant and it’s got more chocolate than you’d ever put into one dessert. You made this specifically for me and that’s just…”

Jake smiles.

Tom sighs softly. “Can I hug you? Please?”

That familiar want flares to life in Jake’s stomach and he’s nodding frantically. Despite the cuddling they’ve been doing, Tom’s been very careful to keep things one-sided so far and Jake’s eager to have that change. If he’s learning to enjoy cuddling somebody, then he’ll probably also learn to enjoy being cuddled. “Of course. I’d like that.”

Stepping closer to him, Tom gently wraps his arms around him. As usual, tension floods through Jake and he’s stiff as a board. But he knows by now that he just has to settle into it.

Unlike the casual hugs he exchanges with his parents, Tom’s pressed right up against him and his arms are solid across Jake’s back. Jake’s head is pressed against the side of Tom’s and his chin is brushing Tom’s shoulder. Out of instinct, Jake brings his arms up and carefully wraps them around Tom’s back. It actually doesn’t feel as strange as Jake thought it would. His body’s rebelling a bit, unaccustomed to this type of contact, but his arms are used to touching Tom’s back by now.

Tom doesn’t move for a while, letting Jake settle into the contact. But as the tension gradually fades, Tom tilts his head and rubs his nose against Jake’s neck, his breath warming Jake’s skin. “Thanks for making me such a special dessert,” Tom whispers.

Without making the decision to do it, Jake brings one of his hands up and tangles it in Tom’s hair, keeping his face against Jake’s neck. Having his hands and arms touching Tom feels familiar by now and Jake wants to stay here for the rest of his life. The warmth and comfort of having Tom so close to him is incredible.

Tom lets out a soft sound and tightens his arms across Jake’s back, rubbing up and down as he nuzzles Jake’s neck with his nose; his breath warming his skin. If anybody would have asked Jake if he’d like doing something like this, he would have scoffed at them. Being this close to another human being for an extended period of time is normally stressful, annoying and unnecessary. He’d absolutely refuse to do this with anybody else.

But that’s the thing. Because it’s Tom, Jake’s tension isn’t only fading, but it’s being replaced by a desire to stay right where he is. “How often can we do this?” Jake murmurs.

Tom chuckles. “You can make me dessert whenever you want, you know that.”

Jake smiles. “I know. I mean the hugging.”

Tom’s arms squeeze him tighter. “Same answer.”

“Oh, good. I really like doing this. I didn’t think I would.”

Tom smiles, his lips curling against Jake’s neck. “I’m a terrible influence.”

Chuckling softly, Jake tightens his arms around him. “You’re actually one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.”

It’s true. Not only does Tom constantly make Jake re-evaluate things he’d previously dismissed, but Tom makes him _want_ to do that re-evaluating. And that’s something Jake will never stop marveling at.

The hugging is wonderful, but as it continues, tension begins to creep back into Jake. One of the reasons he avoids physical contact like this is because it’s full of unknowns and he despises not knowing exactly how to handle situations. He realizes his arms have stayed in the same position for a while and he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to move his arms. Is he supposed to ask Tom? Is he supposed to just assume it’s okay to move them whenever he wants? And how long should the hug go on for? Is there a certain period of time that people hug for? How do people know how long the other person wants to hug for? All of these questions keep tumbling around in his head and they make his tension rise even more.

“We can stop whenever you want,” Tom says softly. He must sense Jake’s tension.

“I don’t want to stop, but I don’t know how to do this.”

“You’re doing great.”

Jake shakes his head, his chin rubbing on Tom’s shoulder. “I’m missing information.”

“What information?”

“Things like: am I allowed to move my arms? How much am I allowed to move my arms? Do I ask you before moving my arms? And how long can we hug for? Is there a predetermined time? Casual hugs are always done very quickly.”

“Intimacy isn’t a recipe, Jake. It doesn’t come with step-by-step instructions that have to be followed.”

Jake makes a face, not liking that answer. “Then how do I know if I’m doing it correctly?”

“The same way you know when you’re baking something without a recipe. You look at what’s happening around you and you can assess whether things are going well or not based on what’s going on. When you started getting tense, I noticed that and I asked you if you wanted to stop. You could have said yes and that would have been the end of the hug.”

That makes a lot of sense. It’s scary not having specific protocols to follow, but then again—baking without a recipe used to be scary too. Once he got more familiar with baking, he gained confidence in his ability to assess how things were going as he went along. It seems he has to go through that same process when it comes to this type of physical intimacy. “Can we hug like this more often? I want to gain more confidence in the process.”

Tom smiles again. “We can hug whenever the hell you want. If I’m not in the mood, you’ll know.”

That’s fantastic news, but it’s a little one-sided. “Can we also agree that we can hug whenever you want?”

Tom’s breath catches a little. His arms are so warm against Jake’s back and he feels so solid against Jake’s front. “You sure?”

“Absolutely. I really enjoy this and I want to get better at it, especially with you.”

“Okay.”

Grinning, Jake can’t help tightening his arms around Tom. “Thank you.”

Tom chuckles. “Don’t thank me, Seever. I’m getting what I want out of this too.”

Now that all of Jake’s concerns have been laid to rest, he’s reminded of Tom’s chocolate cup sitting on the counter next to them. “Speaking of what you want, are you going to eat your chocolate cup or just keep admiring it?”

Tom sighs softly and pulls back enough to look at the cup, but keeps his arms around Jake’s waist. “Can you break the first piece off for me? I can’t do it.”

Laughing, Jake rubs Tom’s sides. “Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recipe Link: [Chocolate Mousse In A Chocolate Cup](https://www.howtocookthat.net/public_html/chocolate-cup-recipe/)


	8. Chapter 8

Being allowed to hug Jake whenever he wants is both the best thing and the worst thing that’s ever happened to Tom.

It’s fantastic because Jake is just as excited about it as Tom is. They hug before Jake leaves for work and when he comes home and whenever they walk into a room where the other person is in. It’s such a wonderful feeling to have Jake enter a room and automatically head right for Tom with a bright smile on his face as he stretches out his arms, just as eager to touch him as Tom is. And it’s equally wonderful to walk up to Jake when he’s putting away his clothes or cooking and wrap his arms around him from behind and see his own smile mirrored on Jake’s face.

It’s also terrible because it’s making Tom fall more and more in love with Jake every single day. The way Jake looks at him every time they hug and the way he begins to melt against Tom every time they come in contact is also making Tom more certain every day that Jake’s feelings towards him have definitely changed, whether Jake’s realized it or not.

He really wants to see if Jake would be comfortable bringing their relationship to a deeper level, but he’s still scared that he’ll freak out by the proposed changes and pull away. Jake’s never been in a romantic relationship and just based on how unsure he was of the most basic physical contact makes Tom fear that he’ll think a romantic relationship might involve too many unknowns for him to tolerate. On the other hand, he’d been able to put Jake’s uncertainties about cuddling and hugging to rest fairly quickly and Jake’s now an enthusiastic participant in those activities…

Despite his fear, Tom really wants to see if Jake’s willing to do this. He knows it would be worth it and they’d be amazing together. But before any of that, Tom wants to get back to work. He’s a little anxious about jumping back into bed with his clients and that anxiety is a distraction he needs to deal with before anything else.

Once he’s healed enough that he can handle some of his easier clients and his bruises have faded enough that make-up will cover the rest, he adds the clients back to his schedule. They’re thrilled at the prospect of resuming their sessions, but the night before he’s going to see Virgin Guy again, Tom’s nerves are gnawing at him. He hates going into sessions without being fully confident in his skills and the task ahead. Virgin Guy isn’t a threat to him—even if he tried to be—but Tom still feels nervous about it for some reason.

He’s lying on Jake’s chest that night, skin to skin and mulling over why he feels nervous while Jake’s arms are rubbing his back. Jake’s fallen in love with sleeping naked and Tom generally loves being naked and being around other naked people anyway, so the change is highly beneficial for both of them. But sadly, the fact that they’re both naked isn’t enough of a distraction.

“So, do you want to share with me why you’re so tense?” Jake asks quietly.

Tom sighs. “I don’t really know.”

“Is it the cuddling? Because we can stop whenever you want.”

Smiling, Tom nuzzles Jake’s chest. He’s purposefully avoiding staring at Jake’s nipples for too long. Sucking on them would definitely help calm his nerves, but Jake’s had a tough day in the kitchen and Tom can tell he’s tired. “You’re a fast learner, Seever.”

“I have a good teacher. So? Why the tension? Am I doing something wrong?”

Tom sighs softly. “No, you’re doing great. I’m nervous about tomorrow.”

“Virgin Guy?”

“Yeah. I know there’s nothing to be nervous about, but my stupid nerves aren’t listening to me.”

Jake’s hands are gently rubbing up and down Tom’s back. “I remember I burned myself on a stove once. I must have been about five years old. I was always in the kitchen and our chef had a little stool I could stand on and he’d give me my own cutting board and some type of vegetable to cut. Anyway, I was alone in the kitchen one day and I’d been really eager to make something on the stove and Chef hadn’t allowed me to yet. I dragged my stool over and climbed up. I think I was planning to pretend I was making something on the stove and act like Chef, but unfortunately, Chef had finished cooking recently and one of the elements was still hot. I touched it without realizing and burnt myself.”

Tom makes a face. “That sucks.”

“Oh, it did. I remember the pain. Anyway, I had issues with the stove for a few years after that. Even if I knew that the elements were cool, I’d get nervous being around them. My hands would shake and I would hesitate before touching it. Even now, I sometimes find myself holding my hand above the element before touching it. I don’t do it consciously; it’s just a reflex. What I’m trying to say is that sometimes, our fears stay with us, no matter how irrational they may be. There’s no point in being upset about it. All we can do is calm ourselves down and carry on.”

Chewing on his lip, Tom thinks about Jake’s words. He’s right. Tom knows he’s right. Despite his brain knowing that there’s very, very little chance that Virgin Guy will attack him or even be able to hurt him like Ruston did, there’s that small bit of irrational fear coiling in his gut. Maybe he should take Jake’s advice and do something to calm himself down. He needs a distraction. His eyes are automatically drawn to Jake’s nipples, lying flat against his chest and desire tingles through him.

“Tom?”

“Hmm?”

“In completely unrelated news, my nipples are a little cold.”

Frowning, Tom lifts his head and stares down at Jake. His nipples definitely don’t look like he’s cold and the bedroom’s as warm as it always is, but if Jake’s cold, then Jake’s cold. Reaching down, Tom grabs the edge of the blanket. “Lemme pull the blanket up.”

But Jake’s smirking up at him and he grabs Tom’s hands, stopping his movements. “They’re not just cold, but they’re lonely too. If you’re in the mood to provide them with company, they’d be very appreciative.”

And that’s when Tom kicks himself because it took him way too long to understand what Jake was getting at. Grinning, Tom stares down at him. “Yeah?”

Jake smiles and nods, then puts a mock-frown on his face. “Yes, definitely. They’re very lonely. Two cold, lonely nipples, eager to renew their acquaintance with your mouth and your hands.”

Tom doesn’t think, he just dives down and eagerly sucks on Jake’s flat nipple, swiping his tongue across it and coaxing it to harden. Letting out a soft, shaky sound, Jake slides his hand up to tangle in Tom’s hair and lifts his chest a bit, pressing his nipple harder against Tom’s mouth.

Relief rushes through Tom. Not only is sucking on Jake’s nipples as comforting as it always is, but Jake had recognized his desire without Tom having to ask and he’d happily offered himself up, all to make him feel better. If there was any doubt that he’s fallen head over heels in love with Jake Seever, that doubt has now evaporated.

Jake’s nipple slowly tightens into a sensitive little peak that Tom eagerly sucks on as he lifts his hand to his other nipple and rubs his thumb over it. Letting out a groan, Jake’s hand tightens in his hair as Tom pinches and tugs on the hardening nipple with his fingers as he flicks his tongue against the one in his mouth. He’s getting hard and when he shifts over Jake, his thigh brushes against Jake’s equally stiff cock. Jack gasps softly and rubs his cock against Tom’s thigh as he keeps his hands tangled in Tom’s hair.

Tom eagerly keeps sucking on Jake’s nipple, flicking his tongue against the tip before shifting to the other one, licking and sucking on it. Jake’s breathing is choppy and he’s letting out little moans and gasps, tilting his head back. Things have definitely shifted from being just about Tom’s comfort and he decides to experiment a little and gently uses his teeth to nibble on one of Jake’s nipples. To his delight, Jake cries out and his hands tighten in Tom’s hair.

“Oh, God,” Jake breathes out. “Do that again.”

Happy to comply, Tom lightly scrapes his teeth over Jake’s tight nipple before flicking his tongue against it, knowing it’s even more sensitive now. Jake’s thrusting harder against his thigh, shifting himself until their cocks are sliding against each other, sending jolts of heat through Tom and forcing him to release Jake’s nipple long enough to let out a loud groan. “Fuck, Seever.”

Speaking of which, Tom really, really wants to get fucked. His ass clenches with the desire to have Jake’s cock inside him, but that’s not part of their usual dynamic. Jake prefers to bottom and that’s been an established part of their routine since day one. But Jake’s been so happy to explore new things with him, so Tom decides to give it a shot. Raising his head, Tom stares down at him. Jake’s eyes are half-closed as he bites on his lip, rubbing his cock against Tom’s and moaning softly. “Jake?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ride you?”

A slow frown appears on Jake’s face and he blinks rapidly, staring up at Tom. His hands are still in Tom’s hair, but his grip gradually loosens. “Ride me? I’m not—I don’t really understand what that means.”

“My ass meets your cock, but I’m on top of you.”

Jake’s eyes widen and a grin tugs on his lips. “Really?”

Tom grins back. “Uh huh. I really wanna get fucked. But if you don’t wanna do that, it’s fine. You have toys around here, don’t you?”

Jake stares up at him, looking excited but also nervous. “I do…”

Prepared to switch plans, Tom shifts to move off of Jake, but to his surprise, Jake wraps his legs around him. “Wait, wait, wait. I don’t—you really want me to fuck you?”

Tom’s ass clenches just from the words and he shivers. “Yeah, I do. But if you’re not comfortable, that’s fine. I know you prefer bottoming.”

“I do…but if it’ll make you feel good, then I want to try it. But…” Jake frowns up at him. “I haven’t done this before. I have no idea what to do.”

Tom smiles and the need to bend down and kiss Jake is overwhelming, but he restrains himself. Barely. “I know and that’s okay. I can teach you.”

Jake’s still frowning. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. That’s the beauty of riding somebody; I’ll be in control.”

That makes Jake’s frown clear. “Okay.”

“You sure?”

Please say yes, please say yes, please say—

“Yes. Just tell me what to do.”

Grinning, Tom rolls off Jake. “Where’s the lube and condoms at?”

“Bedside table drawer.”

As Tom lunges for the drawer and opens it, Jake props himself up on his elbows. “Do you like bottoming? I always assumed you preferred topping.”

“Nah, I’ve always liked bottoming better, but being versatile gives me more client options.” Finding the condoms and bottle of lube, Tom drops them next to Jake and straddles him, grinning down at him. “It’s why I got you as a client, isn’t it?”

Jake smiles up at him, rubbing Tom’s thighs with his hands. “That’s true.”

Opening the lube, Tom coats his fingers and reaches back, sliding two fingers into himself. His ass clenches around his fingers and he lets out a soft moan as the rest of his earlier tension drains out of him. Sliding in a third finger, Tom rocks back on his fingers, his thighs clutching Jake’s sides.

Jake’s watching him with wide eyes. “Can I do that?” The words are a whispered breath and as soon as the words are out of his mouth, Jake goes pale and snaps his mouth shut.

Freezing, Tom stares down at him. Oh, he’s definitely right. Whether Jake’s realized it or not, Tom’s managed to fundamentally shift something in Jake’s mind. But based on how pale and nervous Jake looks, he seems to be fearing Tom’s reaction.

In response, Tom smiles down at him, pulls his fingers loose and knee-walks further up Jake’s body. “Hold up your arms.”

Once Jake’s arms are up, Tom scoots up even further until he’s kneeling above his chest. His stiff cock is very close to Jake’s mouth and Tom has the sudden, desperate urge to slide his cock into Jake’s mouth—but that wouldn’t be appropriate for a number of reasons. To avoid the impulse, he clutches the headboard behind Jake. “Get three of your fingers covered in lube.”

Jake fumbles for the bottle. “How much lube?”

Honestly, Tom could easily take Jake’s cock right now without any additional lube or fingering, but he takes his role as Jake’s teacher very seriously. “The same amount you use when you use your toys. I don’t need a lot of prep, but it’s always better to be safe than sorry.”

After covering his fingers in lube, Jake holds his glistening hand up and gapes up at Tom. “Now what?” he whispers.

“Slide your hand underneath me, find my hole and slide a finger in. Go slow.”

Jake stares at his hand as he slides under Tom, his wrist brushing Tom’s balls and making Tom clutch the headboard as arousal pulses through him.

The first tentative touch of Jake’s fingers against his crack pushes Tom very close to coming and he closes his eyes and takes deep breaths to calm down. Unfortunately, that results in Jake’s fingers disappearing.

“Are you—is everything alright? Did I hurt you?”

Drawing in a shaky breath, Tom shakes his head and manages to open his eyes. “No. I’m just really, really turned on and this is really damn hot. You’re amazing and you wanting to do this with me is incredible. It’s embarrassing to admit this, but I’m really close to coming.”

Jake grins up at him. “I promise I wouldn’t tell anybody. We have to protect your professional reputation.”

Whatever smartass comment Tom was about to make is lost when Jake’s fingers gently rub over his twitching hole and the tip of one finger slides in. Tom’s ass clenches around Jake’s finger and his heart’s racing as his cock twitches and he clutches the headboard so hard that his hands ache. Fuck, he hasn’t gotten this turned on by anybody in years.

“Are you sure I’m not hurting you?” Jake asks, his finger frozen.

“I’m absolutely, a hundred percent fine,” Tom whispers in a strained voice. But when Tom looks down at him, Jake still looks worried and Tom smiles, oddly touched by Jake’s concern. “Jake, I get fucked by a lot of cocks every single week and they’re all a lot bigger than your finger. And no offense, but a lot of them are bigger than your cock too, so it’ll be fine.”

If Jake were anyone else, he would have gotten offended by that, but Tom knows he won’t. In fact, that makes the frown fade from Jake’s face. “That’s true.”

Having gained some new confidence, Jake slides his finger in deeper and Tom can’t help but thrust back against it, moaning softly. It’s been a long time since he’s done this with somebody he’s in love with and no matter what anybody says, it feels different. Logically that should be nonsense, but it’s true. “Do another, Jake. Please,” he whispers, clutching the headboard.

The next time he slides off Jake’s finger, another one nudges up against the first and Tom slides down on both of them. As much as he wants to let loose and fuck himself on Jake’s fingers, he wants this to be a good learning opportunity for Jake and he lets Jake set the pace, slowly thrusting his fingers in and out of him. His thighs are shaking so hard that he’s clutching Jake’s sides, but Jake’s still staring up at him in awe, breathing just as hard as he is. “Can I—can I do another one?”

“Yes, please,” Tom chokes out.

Jake’s third finger joins the others and he rapidly gains confidence as he fucks his fingers up into Tom, increasing the speed and depth of the thrusts. There’s something incredibly arousing about Jake’s fingers fucking him like this. Jake’s long, slim, talented fingers which make such beautiful desserts and do everything in life with such precision—and now, they’re fucking his ass with that same perfection.

Tom has an aching desire to bend over on his hands and knees, shove his ass up into the air and let Jake fuck him hard with his fingers. He’d come without anybody touching his cock. “God, I love your fingers,” Tom gasps out before he can stop himself.

That makes Jake chuckle weakly. “Thank you, I do too. I’m developing an even bigger appreciation for them. I had no idea others liked having this done to them as much as I did.”

Clenching around Jake’s fingers, Tom rocks back on them, staring down at his aching cock as pre-cum steadily drips onto Jake’s chest—apparently going unnoticed by Jake. He really could come from doing this and that’s a shocking realization. Coming on somebody’s fingers isn’t something he’s ever managed to do—except his own—but coming on Jake’s fingers isn’t just a possibility, it’s a certainty. But if Jake’s fingers feel this good, his cock will feel even better and that’s what Tom’s aching for. “Jake?”

“Hmm?”

“You could make me come just from doing this, but I really want your cock in me.”

Jake’s eyebrows fly up. “Really? You could come from me doing this?”

Tom clutches the headboard hard. “Oh, yeah. But I need your cock. Please.”

“Okay. Tell me what to do.”

As much as it pains him to do it, Tom stops rocking back on Jake’s fingers. “Pull out gently.”

When Jake’s fingers slide out, Tom’s ass twitches on nothing and he nearly changes his mind and grabs Jake’s hand to get his fingers back into him, but he clenches his jaw and swings himself off Jake. Grabbing the condom and lube, he hands them to Jake. “Condom, lube, then we get to the good part.”

Jake sits up and fumbles to tear open the condom package, but his hands are shaking and his lube covered hand isn’t helping. Trying to stifle his smile because he doesn’t want to embarrass Jake, Tom gently takes it out of his hands and holds it up with his clean hand before tearing off the top of the wrapper with his teeth.

“Ah, I see,” Jake says, a serious frown on his face.

Tom shrugs. “Tricks of the trade.”

Jake grins at him. “Should I be paying you for sharing these occupational secrets?”

Laughing, Tom wraps his hand around Jake’s cock and slides the condom on him. “No, but only because I like you.”

Jake’s moaning as Tom holds his cock and Tom grins as he gently rubs his thumb over the head. Covering his hand in more lube, he coats Jake’s cock, giving it the kind of squeezes he knows Jake enjoys. But looking at Jake’s hard, thick cock makes Tom’s ass clench again and he releases it to climb over him. Staring up at him with wide eyes, Jake clutches Tom’s thighs in a tight grip. “What—what do I do now?”

“Just try to relax and tell me if it’s too much. I’ll go slow.”

That last part isn’t a choice—if he doesn’t take his time, he’ll come as soon as Jake’s cock is inside of him and he wants Jake to get the full experience. As he holds Jake’s cock and gets himself lined up, it occurs to him that he’s the first person to ever have Jake’s cock inside of them and that makes him shiver with a new surge of arousal. Holding the headboard with one hand, Tom takes a deep breath to steady himself as he rubs the head of Jake’s cock over his slick hole. Jake’s making soft sounds below him and his head is raised as he stares down at his cock.

Tom manages a shaky smile. He’s about to suggest that if Jake likes watching his cock fucking him, they can try this again in a different position, one where Jake can watch himself fucking Tom properly. But that might put pressure on Jake, which Tom doesn’t want to do. He has no idea if Jake will want to do this again once Tom’s gone back to his own room and their lives have returned to their normal routines. To distract himself, Tom slowly sinks down on Jake’s cock, groaning as his thick cock fills him up.

Jake lets out a choked sound and his mouth falls open as his hands dig into the sheets, clutching him. “Oh, my God…”

“You okay?”

They’re both shaking and Jake’s gaping up at him, constantly looking between Tom’s face and where Tom’s ass is sitting on his hips.

“It’s—it feels so warm and tight. God, I had no idea—wow—”

Managing a shaky smile, Tom stays still, his hands gripping the headboard so tight that his fingers are starting to hurt. “Let me know when I can move. Or if you don’t want me to move, just tell me.”

Jake stares up at him, his eyes blown wide with arousal and awe. “You can move. Please—please move.”

Slowly, Tom slides up a bit before going back down, Jake’s cock feeling so good inside of him.

Jake lets out a choked sound and tenses. “God…damn…”

Jake rarely curses and it makes Tom grin as he speeds up a bit, rocking up and down. When he can tell that Jake’s okay with what’s happening, Tom lets himself go a little more, fucking himself harder, giving himself what he’s been craving. Moaning, Jake’s legs twitch as Tom gasps, arousal simmering through him. He fucks himself harder on Jake’s cock, clenching his ass a bit, which makes Jake let out a choked cry.

Tom grins down at him, keeping up the hard rhythm that’s sending sparks through him. “Feels good, huh?”

“Oh—oh, yes.”

“You wanna get in on the action? It’s okay if you wanna keep things the way they are.”

That makes Jake’s eyes widen with heat. “How? What—what do I do?”

“Start thrusting up with your hips. I’ll get us into a rhythm.”

Staring down again, Jake slowly begins to move his hips up and down, pushing his cock up into Tom and making him groan at how good it feels. “That’s it, Jake…that’s it. Keep going. You’re doing so good.”

The praise makes a smile light up on Jake’s face and his thrusts speed up, his hips smacking against Tom’s ass and sending jolts of arousal through him as he clenches around Jake’s cock. Once Jake’s settled into a rhythm, Tom meets his thrusts, making them both moan.

They’re both shaking and gasping, heat building around them. Jake’s smiling up at him and Tom’s heart squeezes with joy as he fucks himself on Jake’s cock. Jesus, he wants to do this every single day. He wants to wake up next to Jake every single day and start the day by fucking him and finish every single day in bed with him, getting fucked by him. And kissing. He desperately wants to do lots and lots of kissing.

But before his fantasies can get completely out of hand, Tom feels his arousal hitting its peak. Jake’s cock isn’t brushing his prostate but Tom doesn’t want to introduce that complication right now, so he grabs his cock and begins fisting himself in tight, short strokes, which will get him to the finish.

“Can—can I do that?” Jake gasps out.

Tom stares down at him with wide eyes and he’s nodding before he’s aware he’s doing it. Jake releases his grip on the sheets with his lubed hand and wraps it around Tom’s cock. Staring at it, Jake fists him in the same rhythm Tom had used and Jesus—that’s nearly enough to make him come.

He fucks himself hard on Jake’s cock, staring down at Jake’s amazing hand as it works his cock and his orgasm slams through him out of nowhere. His ass clenches around Jake’s cock and he lets out a soft cry as he comes, white spurts covering Jake’s chest as Jake’s hand keeps working him through it. He realizes this is the first time he’s ever come on Jake. Condoms are a must in most of their sexual adventures—mostly to protect Jake—and Tom’s very strict about condom usage with everybody, including Jake. But coming on Jake like this is a luxury he allows himself. Jake lets out a moan, staring at Tom’s cum on his chest and he keeps rubbing Tom’s cock, smearing the last dribbles of cum that are oozing out of the slit. It sends tingles through Tom and he shivers. He can’t tear his eyes off of Jake’s hand on his cock, covered in his cum. But safety first.

“Don’t get your hand near your face,” Tom whispers.

“Okay,” Jake whispers back, his voice shaky. “I’ve never had anybody else’s cum on me before.”

Managing a shaky laugh, Tom watches him rubbing his softening cock and his own chest. “You like it, huh?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

Tom’s eyes widen and his cock twitches as Jake purposefully rubs the cum over his nipples, groaning as he covers the stiff buds in Tom’s cum.

A big part of Tom wants to tell Jake that they don’t have to use condoms, if Jake doesn’t want to. Jake never sleeps with other people and he’s always safe in the kitchen. As for Tom, he gets himself tested once a month and if he’s using condoms with everybody else and continues being careful, there’s no reason he has to keep using condoms with Jake…

…but that’s not a conversation that can or should happen right now. But the sight of Jake smearing Tom’s cum over his nipples is making Tom shake and he’s bending down before he can stop himself, wrapping his lips around Jake’s nipple and sucking on it, tasting his own cum.

Jake groans softly and his hands tangle in Tom’s hair. His hips had stopped moving, but they start up again, thrusting up into Tom as he lifts his chest, clearly wanting Tom to stay where he is. Clenching his ass around Jake’s cock, Tom meets his thrusts as he keeps sucking, flicking his tongue over Jake’s nipple and gently nibbling on the sensitive peak. He licks his way across Jake’s chest and seals his lips around Jake’s other nipple, moaning at the feel of the little bud in his mouth, covered in his own cum.

Jesus, he wants to cover Jake in his cum and lick him clean. He wants to fuck Jake for hours, fill him up with cum and watch it leak out of his ass and fuck it back into him with his cock and fingers. He wants Jake to come in his mouth and feel it coat his mouth and drip down his chin as Jake kisses him, his tongue smearing his cum around in Tom’s mouth.

Fuck, he’s absolutely, completely screwed—in more ways than one. Shaking, Tom rides Jake harder, licking over his nipples and loving the tight grip Jake has in his hair. Jake’s moaning and letting out soft, shaky sounds as he fucks up into him. Jesus Christ, Tom never wants this to end.

But when Jake’s thrusts get more frantic and he’s tensing, Tom pulls off his nipples and sits up, wrapping his fingers around Jake’s nipples. He meets Jake’s hard thrusts, clenching around his cock and wraps his fingers around Jake’s shiny, wet nipples, pinching and rolling them as Jake’s eyes slide shut and he’s making those amazing little choked sounds that lets Tom know he’s close.

“Come on, Jake. Lemme feel you come. Come in my ass while I’m playing with your nipples. Lemme feel it, come on. You’re doing so good. You have no idea how fucking hot you look—covered in my cum and fucking me so good.”

Rhythmically pinching Jake’s nipples and tugging on them in short, hard tugs, he rides Jake’s cock hard, and that’s all Jake needs.

Within a few deep thrusts, Jake’s moaning and his body tenses as he comes. For the first time in years, Tom desperately wishes Jake wasn’t wearing a condom so he could feel Jake fill him up with his cum. But that’s a thought that needs to stay in the far future. “That’s it. You’re doing so good. Feels good to come in my ass, doesn’t it?”

Jake keeps thrusting up until he’s done, which is when he goes limp, shaking all over and his body covered in a fine sheen of sweat and Tom’s cum.

Slowly, Tom pulls off Jake, lightly keeping his fingers wrapped around the base of the condom so it stays put. Swinging himself off Jake, Tom gently slides off the condom and ties it off, tossing it on the bedside table before lying down next to Jake, rubbing his stomach. “You okay?”

Jake’s eyes are closed and he’s gasping for breath, still shaking but he slowly opens his eyes and a bright smile appears on his face. It’s a tired smile, but still a very bright one. And his eyes are shining. “That was amazing.”

Grinning, Tom leans over to kiss him—and just barely manages to stop himself in time. Instead, he gives Jake’s chest a pat. “Lemme get you water and get us cleaned up.”

“Okay,” Jake mumbles, his eyes dropping shut again while that smile still lingers on his face.

As Tom gets off the bed, he comes to two conclusions:

First, he’ll have no problem getting back to work tomorrow.

Second, he’s never fallen so hard for anyone before in his entire life.


	9. Chapter 9

Having sex with Jake opened up a whole new set of problems for Tom, but thankfully, none of them are related to his work. He’s got his confidence back and he’s physically ready to have sex on a regular schedule again, which is great. Jake’s encouraging and supportive the whole way through and to Tom’s pleasant surprise, his first session with Virgin Guy goes very well.

The big downside to going back to work is moving back to his own room. There’s no logical reason for Tom to continue staying in Jake’s room, especially when he has to spend time doing preparations in his own. He really misses being around Jake constantly, especially at night. It feels strange not having Jake around to cuddle with whenever he wants, but Tom knows it’s beneficial for both of them.

Not only is it good to get back to his own routine, but he keeps thinking that Jake’s feelings for him had been closely tied to their proximity and they might fade as they go back to spending time apart. Before he talks to Jake about possibility moving their relationship into a new direction, he wants to see what parts of their new dynamic Jake decides to keep without Tom having influenced him.

The first morning Tom goes into Jake’s room to have breakfast with him and Chesa, Jake hurries up to him with a big smile—but freezes when he’s a foot away from him.

“Do…is it…can we still do the hugging or is that…no longer appropriate?” It sounds like Jake’s trying to be casual about the whole thing, but there’s such a desperate look on his face that Tom nearly laughs.

In response, he opens his arms. “As long as everybody involved wants hugging to happen, then hugging can happen. And I definitely do.”

A grin lights up Jake’s face and he looks relieved. “Oh, good. I wasn’t sure…but that’s what I want too.” Crossing the space between them, Jake eagerly wraps his arms around him as Tom clutches him and tries to calm his racing heart.

“Good morning,” he mumbles into Jake’s shoulder.

“Good morning. How did you sleep?”

It would have been better with more cuddling, but that’s not something he wants to talk about today, especially with Chesa sitting a few feet away, eating Jake’s dessert. “Very well. You?”

“Yes, it was fine.”

It takes tremendous effort, but Tom manages to release Jake and step back from him. Jake’s smiling and his arms take a while to drop off Tom, which are all good signs. Not wanting to push him, Tom heads for the fridge to pull out his own dessert, while Chesa shakes her head at both of them.

“You strange boys with strange rules,” she mumbles around her spoon, grinning at them.

Jake chuckles as he sits down next to her and grabs the deck of cards to shuffle them. “You’re the one who chooses to spend time with us, so that makes you a little strange too.”

Laughing, Tom pulls his dessert out of the fridge and grabs a spoon as he sits down on Jake’s other side. “He’s got you there, Chesa.”

Rolling her eyes, Chesa struggles to hide her smile. “Maybe small strange, but you big strange.”

Jake shrugs as he deals out the cards. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

* * *

A few weeks after Tom’s gone back to work, Jake’s happily settled into their new routine. Most of the routine is the same as it’s been for years and that’s the way he likes it, but it has some wonderful additions.

When Tom had gone back to living in his own room, Jake had desperately missed being around him nearly twenty-four hours a day. He misses spending hours on the couch with him and he especially misses cuddling with him in bed. Just last week, Tom had declared that he’s ready to fully open his calendar again and he and Jake had resumed their sessions, but that’s…not the same thing.

Jake remembers Tom telling him that intimacy and sex aren’t the same thing and it’s possible to have one without the other or have them combined, but he’s never realized that he really likes the intimacy part. The sex part is fantastic, but it feels…lacking compared to the chaste cuddling that they used to do when they’d slept in the same bed. It’s an interesting realization for him and Jake spends a lot of time thinking about it. He realizes that he’d deliberately structured his sexual activities to involve as little intimacy as possible, while still being satisfying. Back then, he’d made the decision because he hadn’t seen the point of cuddling and kissing and other chaste activities. But now that Tom’s shown him a little of that world, Jake’s desperate to have more.

Originally, it had concerned him that maybe he’s just excited about this development and eager to explore new things and he’s using Tom as an experiment. But then he realizes that he has no interest in doing these intimate things with anybody else. If Tom decided he didn’t want Jake as a client anymore, then Jake would find another escort to fulfill his sexual needs but he wouldn’t want to cuddle with them and he certainly wouldn’t have the constant urge to kiss them.

No, this is directly connected to Tom and the intense feelings Jake has developed for him. When Tom had returned to his room, Jake had struggled to hide how upset he’d been. Having Tom living on his own had been an important part of his recovery, but Jake didn’t want to lose this new dynamic in their relationship. Thankfully, Tom had been on the same page and Jake’s free to hug him and touch him whenever he wants, which is amazing.

Jake still secretly wishes they could do more things together—kissing being at the top of that list—but if this is all Tom wants to give him, that’s fine. It’s already more than Jake ever dreamed of having anyway.

* * *

Walking down the hallway in his slippers, Jake hugs his towel around himself as he heads towards his room. He and Tom had spent the morning at the gym and then they’d jumped into the pool to swim and play around. Tom doesn’t mind getting changed in the little cubicles in the changing rooms, but Jake prefers going back home to get changed in the comfort of his own room. He hadn’t dried himself off properly before leaving the warmth of the changing room and he shivers in the cool hallway, hurrying towards his room. Once he’s inside, he rushes right for his bedroom and dries off before pulling on warm clothes.

Just as he’s scrubbing his hair dry, his phone rings from the kitchen counter. Wandering out as he rubs his hair, he slings the towel around his neck and checks who’s calling. Seeing his dad’s cell number, Jake grins and answers the call. “Hey, dad.”

“Hi, Jake! I wasn’t sure if you were done at the gym yet.”

“Yes, all done. Tom and I went for a swim afterwards.”

“That’s good. How was the water?”

Jake smiles. “It was great. We did a little swimming but mostly we played around. They have these foam noddle things that you can sit on and do other fun things with.”

“Oh? I think I’ve seen those before. Did you two behave yourselves?”

Laughing, Jake drops his towel on the kitchen chair and wander over to the couch in the living room, making himself comfortable. “Not really, no. Tom started it.”

His dad laughs. “Yes, he usually does. But then you joined in, so you’re not an innocent party here, are you?”

Chuckling, Jake shrugs. “I guess not, no.”

His dad sighs happily. “I’m very happy you enjoy spending time with Tom. You’ve never had much luck finding friends and that’s always been upsetting for your mother and I, but Tom’s great. We’re both thrilled you found such a good friend.”

Jake smiles softly. He has no idea what his parents would think if they knew what Tom really did for a living, but that’s not something Jake’s concerned about. “I’m happy too. He’s wonderful.”

“Yes, he is. Alright, changing the subject. Did you finalize that peach dessert you wanted to do?”

At the mention of desserts, Jake’s smile grows into a grin. “Oh, yes! I’m going to have five different peach elements but they’ll be balanced with some blackberry elements for tartness.”

“Fascinating! What will the five elements be?”

As always, Jake needs very little prompting when it comes to discussing desserts and he tells his dad every detail of his upcoming coconut dessert. His dad interjects with warm praise and awed exclamations, which always make Jake glow with pride.

Halfway through, he hears his mom come back from her spa appointment and his dad puts the phone on speaker and Jake happily fills her in on his dessert. When the dessert discussion comes to a close, his dad has to leave for a meeting but his mom tells Jake that she wants to talk to him about something important before they hang up.

That’s unusual and Jake frowns with concern while he says goodbye to his dad and listens to him leaving the room. “What’s wrong?”

She chuckles. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s about your dad’s birthday.”

Oh. Relief rushes through him and he chuckles softly. “You had me worried for a minute.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that, honey.”

“No, it’s fine. So what did you have in mind?”

No matter what happens in their lives, the three of them have always had a policy that they spend time together around their birthdays. Jake doesn’t feel right missing work for it and his parents feel equally bad about re-scheduling meetings that other people have organized their schedules around, so if their birthdays don’t fall on a weekend, they usually pick a weekend that’s close and his parents always fly home to spend at least one day with Jake.

“I have the perfect idea for a present, Jake! You’re going to be so impressed with your brilliant mother.”

Jake laughs. “That’s very presumptuous of you.”

“Oh, you just wait. So…your dad’s old watch.”

Frowning, Jake sits up slowly. “The gold one? Isn’t he happy with the new one we got him?”

“Yes and no. He’s wearing it, but he keeps carrying the old one around with him in his suitcase and he’s always looking at it. I can tell he really misses wearing it, but he refuses to wear a watch that doesn’t function properly. He thinks he’ll look foolish.”

Jake sighs. “That’s understandable. But I thought you said the watchmaker went into retirement and nobody else has the parts to repair it?”

“Yes, but I managed to get the man’s phone number and he’s agreed to fix the watch.”

“That’s great! So…how are you going to do it? Dad’s never far from that watch.”

“Oh, leave that to me. We’re passing through New York in a few days and I’ll get it done.”

Smiling, Jake can’t wait to see the look on his dad’s face when they give him the repaired watch. “He’ll be thrilled.”

“Absolutely! So I was also thinking we could use the watch as a theme for the entire birthday.”

Immediately catching onto his mom’s thought process, Jake nods. “I can make a watch cake. I’ll decorate it to look like the actual watch. Oh! And I can make the cake different flavors. Four flavors for the four quarters—no! I can do twelve flavors. Little slivers for each.”

“Oh, that’s too much work, sweetheart! Your dad will be fine with just one or two flavors.”

“No, no, no. I want to do the twelve. It’ll be a fun challenge and I have plenty of time. I can do everybody’s favorite flavors and then you can cut the rest of the cake into flavor slices and have different types of cake to enjoy later.”

“That sounds wonderful,” his mom says, her voice very warm and Jake knows she’s smiling. “But don’t put any unnecessary pressure on yourself. If it’s not working out or if you don’t have the time, then do something simpler. Your dad will love it no matter what it is, you know that.”

Smiling, Jake nods. “I know, but I want to try.”

“Alright. So you’ll take care of the cake, I’ll take care of the watch and we’ll both get him cards, right?”

“Of course.”

“Excellent. Okay, I’ll let you get back to your day, honey. Have a great shift at work and take pictures of that wonderful peach dessert for us.”

“I will! Bye, mom!”

“Bye, honey!”

* * *

Over the next week, Jake throws himself into planning for his dad’s cake. He takes his time carefully picking twelve different flavors and coming up with ideas on how to decorate it so it’ll look exactly like his dad’s old watch. Thankfully, his mom sends him a secret picture of the watch and Jake can use that as a reference.

Working on the cake in the evenings is a nice distraction. He usually chats with Tom a little, but Tom’s usually tired from sessions to talk for long and Jake has a hard time falling asleep when he’s desperately missing having Tom share his bed. Sketching out different ideas for the cake keeps him distracted until he’s ready to fall asleep.

* * *

Now that Tom’s settled back into his routine and he’s feeling comfortable with how things are going, he’s ready to have that very important conversation with Jake. His feelings for Jake have continued growing stronger and he misses the intimacy they’d shared while living together. Even if they continue living in their own rooms for practical reasons, Tom wants to move their relationship to the next level…as long as that’s something Jake’s willing to try.

Knowing that Jake’s never been in a romantic relationship means Tom has to move cautiously. He doesn’t want to overwhelm him or put too much pressure on him, since that will probably result in Jake pulling away. Even if Jake’s not ready to jump into a relationship, Tom wants to lay all his cards on the table and see what Jake’s opinion of the whole thing is. It’ll suck if Jake never wants to have a relationship with him, but Tom thinks he might be willing to give it a try. In any case, he’s tired of the unknowns and the only way to move forward is to put everything into the open.

So a week before Jake’s parents will be in town for his dad’s birthday, Tom decides to go for it and asks Jake if they can meet at the nearby coffee shop where Tom usually meets new clients.

* * *

Jake frowns, confused by Tom’s strange request. “Sure…but we don’t have to go all the way there if you want to discuss something. We can discuss things any time you want.”

“No, I wanna be somewhere neutral. I don’t want either of us feeling pressured and being outside the hotel will help.”

Not understanding why Tom’s acting so mysterious, Jake can’t help the anxiety that wells up inside of him. What if Tom wants to stop doing sessions with him? That’s his right, of course, but that’ll be very disappointing. Or worse, what if Tom wants to stop being friends with him? That would be much, much worse and Jake doesn’t know how he’d deal with that.

Maybe he’s been quiet for a while, because Tom sighs softly. “Jake, stop. It’s nothing bad, I promise. I just wanna talk about how things have been and whether we wanna make any changes. But if we decide to keep things the same, that’s fine too.”

That doesn’t help calm all of Jake’s anxieties, but he reluctantly agrees to meet with Tom. It’s torture getting through the next few days before their meeting and the situation is made worse when Tom’s too busy to meet up for their usual activities. Everything about it is strange and makes Jake fear that he’s about to lose Tom, but there’s nothing he can do except wait for their meeting and hope for the best.

When the hotel driver drops him off at the coffee shop, Jake’s so nervous that he almost forgets to thank the driver. Turning away from the car, Jake fixes his tie and does up the buttons on his suit jacket. Tom hadn’t specified what the dress code for the meeting should be, but Jake wants to put his best foot forward, no matter what. When he’s satisfied with his appearance, he scans the patio of the shop and sees Tom already sitting at one of the tables, two drinks in front of him. With his stomach in knots and his feet made out of lead, Jake slowly makes his way towards him.

Tom grins and stands up when he sees him. “Hey. I got us both Frappuccinos.”

Barely managing to smile, Jake feels like he’s about to throw up. “Hi. Thanks.”

Tom’s smile fades as he stares at Jake. “Jesus, Seever. I told you that this won’t be anything bad.”

Shifting on his feet, Jake fidgets with his hands. “I know you did, but I can’t help being worried.”

Sighing softly, Tom steps away from his chair and opens his arms, a familiar invitation. Despite not being fully comfortable hugging Tom in front of so many strangers, the relief he feels at seeing Tom’s desire to hug him far outweighs his discomfort. Stepping close to Tom, Jake wraps his arms around him and settles against him, clinging to him and breathing in his familiar scent.

Tom’s arms are tight around him and he presses his head against Jake’s, his lips by his Jake’s ear. “I’m sorry I scared you, but this isn’t anything bad, I promise. This is either gonna end with nothing changing between us or with things getting even better. There aren’t other options, I promise.”

Getting a hug from Tom reassures Jake more than his words do, but they’re both helpful. Soaking in Tom’s comfort, Jake eventually steps back and the first genuine smile he’s managed to produce flickers over his face.

Tom’s looking at him intently, frowning with concern. “Okay?”

“Yes.”

Unbuttoning his suit jacket and sitting down, Jake grabs the icy drink and takes a sip, the sugary taste giving him another little boost. By the time Tom’s sat down, Jake’s finally ready for this conversation. “Okay, I’m ready.”

That makes Tom smile, but the smile is a little shaky and his hands are fiddling with the napkin that’s on the table. It’s strange seeing Tom be nervous and it’s rapidly draining Jake’s replenished confidence.

Finally, Tom takes a deep breath and dives in. “I wanted to talk…about us.”

Frowning, Jake lowers his drink and clenches his jaw. “Yes, I figured that part out. But I don’t understand why you want to change things. If I did something to upset you, then—”

To his surprise, that makes Tom laugh. “Upset me? No, no, no. You’re way off. This isn’t anything bad. You didn’t do anything wrong and this isn’t about me wanting to end our friendship.”

Jake’s anxiety has come flooding back. “Then what do you want to change?”

“I wanna know if…you’re interested in having a romantic relationship. With me.”

The entire world freezes and Jake’s mind goes quiet and blank. He’s never heard anybody say those words to him before and it’s not something he’s ever seriously considered. His gut instinct is to turn Tom down because he’s never liked the idea of a romantic relationship…

…but then again, there are many things he thought he wouldn’t ever like doing and he’s enjoyed doing them with Tom. In fact, he wants to do more of those things and being in a romantic relationship would definitely help with that. But he has to make sure Tom’s suggesting what he thinks he’s suggesting. “You want to have a romantic relationship…with me?”

Tom’s smiling, but it’s a faint smile, full of nerves. “Yes. We’ve gotten closer recently and my feelings towards you have…changed.”

Jake frowns. This sounds similar to what he experienced, but he had no idea Tom was going through the same thing. He still doesn’t know how to interpret the changes regarding his feelings for Tom, but Tom has more experience with these things and he might be able to offer insight. Maybe if Jake understood what was happening regarding his own feelings, he’d feel more comfortable about things?

“Changed in what way?” Jake asks.

Tom takes a deep breath and stares at him. “I’m just gonna put all my cards on the table, okay?”

“Okay…”

“I’m in love with you.”

Blinking, Jake stares at him. Tom’s _in love_ with him? That can’t be right. “Are you…sure?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“How do you know?”

Tom sighs and shrugs, a soft smile on his face. “I just do.”

That’s not helpful. “But what exactly are you feeling?”

That’s when Tom frowns a bit. “If you’re not okay with this, just say so. Things don’t have to change between us, but I know what I feel.”

Tom’s getting defensive, which is the complete opposite of what Jake wants. “No, no, that’s not why I’m asking. My feelings towards you have…changed too, but I don’t know how to interpret them. I’ve never had these feelings before and I want to see if I’m feeling what you’re feeling.”

“What are you feeling?”

Jake shrugs. It’s so hard to describe these things. “I get a ridiculous urge to smile whenever I see you. I have this desperate need to touch you and be around you all the time, and when I get to do those things, I feel this…warm tightness in my stomach. Not a bad tightness, just a really intense one. It feels very good.”

Tom’s back to smiling and he looks happy. “I hate to break this to you, but that sounds pretty close to love to me. I could be wrong, but that’s usually how I feel if I’m in love with somebody.”

Staring at Tom, Jake’s stunned. It never occurred to him that he might have fallen in love with Tom without realizing it. He’s never understood how the process happens and he always thought it would involve some voluntary decision on his part. To his surprise, this revelation doesn’t scare him. In fact, it’s nice to put a name to his feelings. But then he remembers that they’re not just talking about his own feelings and the enormity of the situation hits him. “Are you telling me that we’ve somehow fallen in love with each other?”

Tom’s grinning. “I think so.”

That leaves Jake flabbergasted. “So…what do we do now?”

Chuckling softly, Tom takes a sip of his drink. “That’s what we’re going to discuss. We can do nothing and stay friends or we can do the things that we’ve both been wanting to do.”

“Like kissing?” The moment the words are out of his mouth, Jake’s kicking himself because he shouldn’t have blurted them out like that, but Tom laughs, looking thrilled.

“Yeah, like kissing. And lots of cuddling.”

That all sounds amazing, but then Jake remembers that cuddling and kissing aren’t the main reason he’s never been interested in relationships. And unlike cuddling—which Jake has learned to really enjoy—he doesn’t think he’ll ever enjoy the other aspects. “Okay, but what about other things?”

Tom frowns. “What other things?”

That’s when Jake’s nerves come back. He and Tom might have been on the same page about everything so far, but they might not be in agreement over other things. “What I’ve seen and heard about relationships from other people isn’t appealing. While I’m happy to admit that you’ve helped prove me wrong about things like cuddling, there are other things which I’m not willing to explore. No matter how I feel about you.”

Leaning forward, Tom clasps his hands on the table, looking serious. “Okay. What things?”

“Things like my job. I can’t count how many pastry assistants have quit because the person they’re in a relationship with didn’t like their schedule and wanted them to spend more time away from the kitchen. And I know it’s led to Liying losing a few relationships too.”

Tom nods, still looking appropriately serious. “I know that’s a problem for many people and I’ve had similar problems. My job has…many issues, but my schedule was one of the problems. But I don’t think that’ll be an issue for us. We know what our schedules are like and I’d never demand that you change your schedule for me. Your job comes first for you, just like my job comes first for me.”

Nodding, Jake stares at him. That’s exactly what he’s always wanted, but he didn’t think he’d ever find somebody who was so reasonable. “And I’d never demand that you change your schedule. If you have sessions, then those take first priority. Our jobs will always come first and everything else can be arranged around them.”

It’s how his parents have always lived and Jake’s always enjoyed that. Compromising his job for somebody else when he doesn’t want to make that change isn’t something he’s willing to do.

Tom smiles. “So we’re on the same page with that?”

“Yes. We’ll never demand that the other person change their schedules for the other person. If the person wants to change their own schedule, they can do that, but it’s their own choice.”

Jake’s remembering how he’d missed his shift the day Tom was attacked and he still has no regrets over that. But it’s one thing to make the decision to change his schedule and its another if he doesn’t want to but somebody else is pressuring him to.

“That’ll work,” Tom says.

But adjusting his schedule isn’t the only thing Jake’s always been worried about when it comes to a relationship. “What about the rest of our schedules? I’m unclear how often you’d expect me to call you or go out on dates. Would we have a schedule? And even if those times don’t disrupt my work schedule, I’d still want to spend time on my own.”

Tom smiles softly. “Of course. Most people don’t usually have schedules for those things, but some people do. We’d talk about it and come to a compromise. But honestly, I don’t see that being a problem. Personally, I’m happy with the amount of time we spend together right now.”

Jake would actually prefer to spend a little bit more time with Tom, but he decides to keep that preference to himself for the time being. He has no idea if this change in their dynamic really will go as smoothly as Tom’s suggesting it will, so it might be better to introduce changes slowly. “So we’d continue calling each other whenever we want?”

“Yeah. Again, I think it becomes a problem when one person wants more of the other person’s time and they’re not on the same page with that. But if we didn’t like spending this much time together, we would have stopped a long time ago.”

“That’s a valid point.” In fact, Tom’s making many excellent points. This whole thing sounds way less stressful than Jake ever imagined it would.

But he still has more concerns. “What about being…intimate in public? I know we just shared a hug and I might be hypocritical when I say this, but I’m not comfortable doing much more than that in public. Holding hands and kissing in front of other people are things I wouldn’t be comfortable doing. Holding hands with somebody seems very inconvenient anyway and I don’t like attracting needless attention.”

Tom’s still smiling and he nods. “I’m the same way. Hugging’s fine, but everything else can wait until I’m behind closed doors and not around other people. If you ever changed your mind about things and wanted to be more affectionate in public, that would be fine but I don’t care either way.”

Remarkably, that’s addressed most of Jake’s concerns. He’s sure he’ll have others, but he remembers that Tom had said people usually have other problems with his job. Tom’s been so kind with addressing Jake’s concerns and now he wants to return the favor. “You said people usually have more issues with your job than just your schedule. What did you mean?”

Tom stares at him for a beat and Jake stares back, waiting.

Finally, Tom lets out a chuckle. “You’re one of a kind, Jake Seever.”

“I’ve been told that before. It’s not usually meant in a complimentary way.”

That makes Tom grow serious again. “When I say it, it’s always a compliment. And fuck the people who say it as an insult. They don’t deserve to share the same planet as you. Anyway, people usually want me to quit my job because of jealousy.”

Jake frowns. “They’re…jealous of your job? But why? If they want to work as an escort, they can do that anytime they want.”

Tom laughs. “Jesus, Seever. They’re jealous because most people don’t like it when the person they’re in a romantic relationship with is having sex with other people.”

“Well…that’s certainly understandable in most cases. But when the person is having sex with others as part of their job, then that’s a different scenario.”

Looking a bit pained, Tom makes a face. “Most people don’t see it that way. Even if they say they can handle it, they eventually get jealous. Then they get upset if I’m not willing to quit my job for them. And here’s the worst part: if I love the person enough, I’d probably do it. But I’d always be upset at myself for it and that’s not a road I’m willing to go down.”

“That makes sense. If you ever wanted me to quit my job, I’d probably do it to make you happy but it wouldn’t make me happy.”

Tom sighs softly. “But that’s the thing. Our jobs are very different.”

Jake frowns. “Not really. At least, not in my view. We both provide a high-level service, using skills that we’ve gained and perfected over many years. It’s why we’re both very well compensated for doing those jobs.”

“Yes, but sex is different.”

Shaking his head, Jake frowns. He doesn’t understand why Tom is making such a fuss about this. “Not to me. Let me ask you something. Are you jealous of the other diners who get to eat my desserts?”

Tom laughs. “Kind of, yes. I wish I could eat all of your desserts.”

Jake smiles. “Thank you, but I’m being serious. Would you ever insist that I quit my job because you’re jealous that I make desserts for other people and you only want me making desserts for you?”

“Of course not! That’s ridiculous. I’m thrilled that other people get to eat your desserts and I’m so damn proud of you whenever somebody tells me they liked what you made. Most of all, I love how happy making desserts makes you.”

Smiling softly, Jake stares at Tom. “That’s exactly how I feel about your job. When we have sex, you make me so happy. I love knowing that other people get to experience that happiness too. I’m proud of how hard you work and how much you love your job. I’m not only _not_ jealous, but I think the suggestion is ludicrous. I think it would be selfish for me to demand that you only use those skills on me.”

Tom’s staring at him very intently. “You’re serious?”

“Yes. A hundred percent. You know I’ve always viewed our jobs as being very similar.”

Tapping on the plastic cup of his drink, Tom chews on his lip, his eyes worried. “It’ll kill me if you change your mind,” he whispers. “I’ve had that happen before and it sucks. Having to choose between my career and the person I love sucks.”

“I’ll never force you to make that choice, I promise.”

Tom still looks doubtful, so Jake searches for a more convincing argument. “Remember that I told you my feelings for you changed? I didn’t know at the time that I’d fallen in love with you, but that happened very soon after you were attacked. So I already felt very close to you and I loved being with you, but when you talked about going back to work, I didn’t feel anything but happiness. I was happy that you felt healthy enough to go back to work and that your clients would get that joy back. That’ll never change.”

“Other people don’t think that way.”

Jake shrugs. “People have told me that my entire life and I’ve never cared. Other people don’t agree that I should be measuring every element of my desserts with my ruler or be living in my parents’ hotel, but I don’t care. I’ve carefully thought things through and I’ve come to conclusions that I’m happy with. Your job is the same thing. All you have to do is trust me.”

Tom takes a deep breath. He’s quiet for a while, staring at Jake. “You know what? I already do.”

“Then there’s no problem.” Grabbing his drink, Jake stirs the straw through the slushy coffee mixture and happily sucks down sweet mouthfuls. He can’t believe he’s feeling so positive about this entire conversation. There’s no doubt that his nerves will set in later, but things are going much better than he ever thought they would.

Chuckling, Tom leans back in his chair and sips his drink too. A few minutes pass while Tom drinks and stares at Jake, before he puts his drink down. “Okay, so there’s one more thing about my job that’s a bit unusual. It’s not a situation I’ve ever encountered before so I’m not sure how we want to handle it, but we have to discuss it.”

“Okay…”

“If we’re in a relationship, then I don’t want you paying me for sex anymore.”

Jake blinks. “Can I ask why? It makes sense to compensate you when you’re providing a service that’s mostly for my benefit.”

“Do you ever charge me for the desserts you bring up from the kitchen?”

Frowning, Jake lowers his drink. “No, but that’s different. I _want_ to give you that dessert.”

“And I _want_ to have sex with you.”

Jake scoffs. “I have a hard time believing that. I’m not very good at it and I like what I like. I’m not interested in doing things that I don’t enjoy doing, but that’s unfair to you. Hence, you should be compensated.”

Tom’s smirking at him. “Two months ago, what was your opinion about having somebody play with your nipples?”

That brings Jake’s thoughts to a halt. Once again, Tom’s making a valid point. Jake had previously dismissed the idea of different types of sexual activities because he didn’t like the idea of doing them with a stranger or he dismissed them based on assumptions. And Tom’s already taught him that his assumptions are often wrong, so why would he continue clinging to the idea that he only likes sex one specific way?

“That’s a fair point. And I didn’t think I’d enjoy having you on top like that, but I did. I also enjoyed the work we did with blow jobs.” But that reminds him. “But that brings me to another point. If you’re teaching me something new, then I should compensate you.”

“If you were a stranger, sure.”

“There’s no difference.”

“There’s a lot of difference. If a stranger walks up to me and says they want to learn how to give blow jobs, I’m not gonna do that for free. I’d rather spend my time doing other things with people I care about and if somebody I don’t care about insists on taking up my time and they want to make use of a skill that I usually charge for, then yes, I’ll definitely charge them. But when it comes to somebody I care about, I want to do those things.”

“But I—”

“If I wanted to learn how to make your chocolate mousse, would you insist on charging me money to teach me?”

Jake scoffs and he’s about to declare how ridiculous that idea is. Teaching Tom how to cook something would make both of them happy, which is better than any amount of money in the world. And that’s when he finally understands Tom’s point. “So you really don’t mind putting up with my…shortcomings in the bedroom?”

Tom smiles softly. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You do really well and we always have a great time together. By the way, just because we’ll be ending our professional relationship doesn’t mean that you don’t get to have things the way you want. The only difference is that we’ll have to take turns getting what we want or combine what we both like. But in my experience, giving somebody I love something that they love is never a hardship.”

Jake doubts that Tom will be this enthusiastic when they actually get to it, but then he thinks about how happy he’d felt when Tom had been sucking his nipples and riding him. If somebody were to ask, then Jake would admit that he still enjoys a good, hard fucking a lot more, but he’d also enjoyed those activities. Mostly because Tom had enjoyed it, but it had also felt good. So maybe this whole thing won’t really be a big concern?

Weirdly enough, if Tom had led the discussion with telling Jake that he wants to stop their professional relationship, Jake would have been devastated. But now it doesn’t sound so bad. “I’d be alright with that.”

Tom chews on his lip. “You’d be okay with not paying me for sex?”

“Yes.”

Letting out a deep breath, Tom smiles. “Okay. That’s really important to me.”

“Then it’s important to me too and I’m happy to do it.”

Tom’s smile grows into a grin and Jake can’t help but grin back.

Then Jake realizes how incredible this moment is. They’ve been talking about getting into a romantic relationship together—him, Jake Seever, being in a romantic relationship with another person—and all of their concerns have been easily addressed. That only leaves…actually starting that relationship.

And that brings Jake’s nerves back. It’s one thing to talk about a hypothetical situation but actually jumping into it? That’s a whole other thing. What if Jake’s forgotten to ask Tom about a concern that will end up destroying their relationship a few minutes after it’s started?

Tom’s smile fades. “What’s wrong? If you have other concerns, then put them on the table. That’s what we’re here for.”

Jake takes a shaky breath. “I actually don’t have any. But that’s the problem. I’m worried that I’m forgetting some important reasons why I’ve never wanted to do this before and that’ll destroy things very quickly.”

“I don’t think it will. We’ve already proven that we can have rational discussions about things and reach compromises. We’ve been doing that throughout our entire friendship, haven’t we?”

That’s true.

Tom continues. “But there’s no reason we have to jump into things right now. I just wanted to get your opinion on the whole subject. If you’re not interested, then we can go back to doing things the way we’ve been doing them. But if you’re interested, then you should take your time getting things sorted out in your head and let me know once you’re ready.”

Jake presses his lips together, still nervous. “I’d like to have some time, but how much time will you give me?”

“As much time as you want.”

Rolling his eyes, Jake makes a face. “Don’t tell me that you’ll still be waiting around for me ten years from now. I wouldn’t want you doing that. If I can’t commit to this, then I’d want you to move on.”

Tom smiles. “Okay, fine. How about I check in with you once a month? On the last day of every month, I’ll ask you how you’re feeling about it. You’ll know exactly when I’m going to ask and if I’ve decided that I don’t wanna wait anymore, I’ll use one of those opportunities to tell you.”

His smile returns and Jake’s nerves melt away again. It’s so wonderful that Tom understands him so well. Instead of arguing with him over the way Jake’s reacting to things, Tom always focuses on finding a solution that works for both of them. “I’d like that.”

That makes Tom’s smile turn into a grin again. “Good.”

Grabbing his drink, Tom relaxes against his chair. “So. Did you know your peach dessert was amazing?”

Laughing, Jake sips his drink. “You might have mentioned it once or twice.”

“Well, let me tell you again. Ready?”

Jake can’t believe he’s been given permission to think about being in a relationship with this amazing man. “Sure.”

“Well, get comfortable cause I’m gonna gush about every part.”


	10. Chapter 10

As much as Jake wants to say yes to Tom right away, he thinks that eagerness is a sign he should wait. He’s sure he hasn’t thought things through properly and he’s just excited because he’s—apparently—in love with Tom. And that’s a whole other thing that Jake needs to take time to adjust to.

Everything feels so overwhelming that Jake spends the rest of the day trying to focus on planning his dad’s birthday cake and upcoming dessert menus for the restaurant, but he keeps getting distracted. Thinking about desserts makes him think about Tom, which makes him think about the conversation they had. That’s always followed by Jake tumbling headfirst into fantasies that feature lots of kissing and smiling and happy feelings…but they also bring on anxiety and nerves.

But by the next morning, he’s tired of bouncing back and forth between excitement and nervousness and he decides the best course of action would be to consult the people who he trusts the most and who are his number one consultants whenever he’s dealing with any big event in his life.

He calls his parents.

While he’s telling them about his and Tom’s feelings for each other and their conversation—leaving the details about Tom’s job out of it—he’s bracing himself to hear his parents express their concerns and bringing up issues that Jake had forgotten about. To his surprise, they don’t have any.

“That’s very exciting news, sweetheart!”

“Jake, we’re thrilled about this! Absolutely thrilled! You know we both like Tom very much and we think you’d be very good together. This is fantastic!”

So it turns out that Jake’s the only one around who’s full of nerves. “But what if things don’t work out?”

“That’s no reason not to try,” his dad tells him. “If you let your fear win, then you have zero chance of happiness. But if you give it a try, you have a hundred percent chance at happiness. Maybe things won’t work out and you won’t get that happiness, but that would leave you in the same place as you started. But the difference is that you have the opportunity to have something great.”

“Think of your desserts, Jake,” his mom pipes up. “If you have a great idea, do you let your doubts and fears stop you?”

Jake snorts. “Of course not.”

“Exactly. You know that succeeding will be wonderful. And even if things go wrong, you’ll have learned valuable lessons. But if you never try making anything, you’d never have any desserts.”

His parents’ words make Jake re-evaluate the entire situation. They’re both right. Even though taking this chance will be scary, not doing so would potentially deprive him of something amazing. And he won’t be on his own. In the kitchen, it’s always less nerve-wracking to try out new recipes and new plating techniques because he has Liying by his side. He knows Liying will use her skills, tools and confidence to help achieve the goal that Jake’s set for them. Tom’s already proven that he can be an equally great partner. So Jake won’t have to figure things out on his own and he’ll have Tom to help him if his doubts and nerves are plaguing him.

He takes a deep breath. “You know what? I really want to do this and I trust Tom, so I think I’m going to try it.”

“That’s wonderful!” his dad says and Jake knows he’s grinning. “We’re very proud of you. It takes guts to do something that you’re scared to do and relationships can be scary, especially because this is your first one.”

“I think this will be great for both of you,” his mom adds. “And if things don’t work out, you’ll always have us, sweetheart.”

Jake smiles down at his phone, touched at his parents’ love for him. “Okay.”

“We love you very much and we’re very excited for you. Take your time and call us if you need a second opinion about things. In any case, we’ll see you on Saturday for your dad’s birthday.”

The reminder about his dad’s birthday makes Jake’s heart race with excitement even more. Today, he’ll tell Tom that he wants to start their relationship, hopefully they’ll spend the rest of the week navigating their new relationship and the weekend will bring his parents and his dad’s birthday. This will be one of the best weeks of his life. “I can’t wait to see you both.”

“I can’t wait for my present and to eat whatever delicious treat you’ve whipped up!” Then his dad lets out a little panicked sound. “Oh, look at the time! Jake, you better head down to the kitchen. Call us after you’ve talked to Tom, alright?”

Glancing at his watch, Jake’s eyes widen when he realizes that he should have been in the kitchen two minutes ago. “Yes, I have to go. I’ll let you know once I’ve talked to Tom.”

“Okay. Have a good shift.”

“Bye, honey!”

Jake smiles. “Bye, mom! Bye, dad!”

* * *

At first, Jake thinks he’ll be really distracted during his shift, but once he settles into the usual organized chaos that is the kitchen, he’s fine. Kind of.

Since it’s Monday, Jake thinks it’s the perfect day to tell Tom that he wants to give their new relationship a try. His paid sessions with Tom used to take place on Mondays and Thursdays and they hadn’t actually discussed continuing his sessions if he can’t commit to a relationship right away, but now none of that is a concern. Maybe he’s being optimistic, but he’s hoping that he’ll get his normal Monday dose of having sex with Tom, even if the dynamic behind the sex will change. Maybe there will even be kissing…?!

Once service is done and everything’s cleaned up and prepared for tomorrow, Jake plates two desserts and races up to his room, his chef’s jacket on his arm. After putting the desserts into his fridge, he eagerly grabs his phone and calls Tom.

“Hey.”

Jake’s smiling harder than he ever has in his life, but his stomach is twisted into nervous knots. “Hi,” he breathes out. “What—what are you doing tonight?”

“Well, I don’t know. Maybe I’m working…or maybe I’m not. Depends on my client.”

“I think your client has decided to end his professional relationship with you.”

“Is that right?”

Jake can tell Tom’s smiling. “Yes. Are you okay with that?”

“I’m definitely okay with that. So what are you thinking we wanna do tonight? I can come over and we can watch a movie or we can don’t have to do anything tonight. It’s up to you.”

“I was really hoping—well, if you’re okay with it…I was wondering if we can still keep a part of our Monday routine. If you’re in the mood.”

Tom laughs. “Oh, I’m definitely in the mood.”

Jake’s so excited that he’s vibrating. “Okay. I have to go shower first.”

“Well, if you want to, you can shower over here. And I can help you. If you want.”

That’s something Jake’s never done before, but the idea of showering together with Tom is really exciting. “I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” Tom sounds cautious and Jake knows it’s because he doesn’t want to make Jake uncomfortable.

“Yes.”

“I’m really looking forward to it.”

Jake grins, but it’s a shaky grin. “I’ve never done that before. Showered with somebody else.” And here come Jake’s nerves again.

“That’s fine. I love it and I’m pretty sure you’ll like it too.”

His heart racing, Jake can barely keep hold of his phone. “When can I come over?”

“Whenever you want.”

Without thinking about it, Jake hangs up his phone and hurries out of his room, racing up to Tom’s door and knocking on it, his phone still clutched in his hand.

Seconds later, the door’s opening and Tom’s standing on the other side, grinning just as hard as Jake. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Jake whispers, still shaking.

“Come on in.”

Tom steps back and Jake walks in, letting the door shut behind him. As Tom reaches around him to lock the door, Jake’s nerves are taking over again and he chews on his lip as he stuffs his phone into his pocket.

Staring at him, Tom’s smile fades a bit and his eyes are soft. “Hey. It’s okay, it’s just me. Come here.”

Tom opens his arms and Jake moves without thinking, wrapping his arms around Tom and melting against him without a trace of tension in his body. Pressing his nose into Tom’s neck, Jake closes his eyes and breathes in his familiar scent and lets the warm solidness of Tom’s body against his own calm him down. He’s so glad that they’ve done this often enough by now that hugging Tom provides immediate comfort. That annoying voice in his head no longer wonders where to put his arms, how hard to squeeze or how long he’s allowed to hug Tom.

Tom’s rubbing his back. “It’s okay to be a little nervous. I’m nervous too. But if you’re scared and uncomfortable, that’s not good. We can go as slow as you want. We don’t have to do anything new, if you don’t want to.”

“I want to try the showering,” Jake whispers. “And I want to try kissing too. But if I’m really tense, it’ll be awful.”

“Nothing with you will ever be awful. If you’re worried about being tense, don’t be. It’s normal to be tense when you’re doing something new, especially if it’s something you’re not comfortable doing.”

Jake sighs against Tom’s neck. “I want this to be good for you. I hate being inadequate.”

“You’re not inadequate. If you said that I was gonna be one of your pastry assistants starting ten minutes from now, I’d be a nervous wreck because I wouldn’t have a clue what I was doing and I’d feel overwhelmed and uncomfortable. Would you be upset at me for that?”

“Of course not. But this is different.”

“It’s really not.”

“Everybody knows how to hug and kiss and do things like that.”

Tom squeezes him tightly. “No, they don’t. I was nervous as hell the first time I kissed somebody. Or the first time I had sex with someone. Or the first time I cuddled with somebody. But I got used to it and so will you. Look at what we’re doing right now. Would you have ever imagined that you’d be this relaxed when you’re hugging somebody?”

Jake snorts softly against his neck. “No.”

“Exactly. When we hugged the first time, I thought you were gonna have a heart attack. You were so tense, I thought I’d accidentally break you in half. And now look at you.”

Drawing in a shaky breath, Jake closes his eyes. “I just hate that you have to suffer through that until I get comfortable.”

“I don’t mind. I really don’t. If I’m gonna be honest, it’s a really good feeling being the one who gets to introduce you to these things and it’s amazing watching and feeling you get more comfortable. I can’t believe you trust me enough to let me be part of this.”

Despite Tom’s words, Jake still feels like he’s being a massive inconvenience. No matter what Tom says, if somebody inexperienced comes into his kitchen, Jake would get annoyed and get rid of them as soon as possible. If the person were Tom things would be more difficult because of Jake’s feelings for him. But Jake would feel conflicted about it. Apparently, Tom really doesn’t mind Jake’s inexperience and that’s just mind-boggling. Well, there’s no use spending more time going back and forth about this in his head. Knowing himself as he does, the only thing that’ll get him more comfortable is actually doing it.

Tom rubs his back. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I want to try it.”

“Okay. What would you like to try first?”

The answer’s automatic. “Kissing. I’ve dreamed about kissing you a lot and I’ve wanted to do it a million times.”

Tom draws in a sharp breath. “That makes two of us.” His voice is rough.

Before Jake can get overwhelmed with the million questions and concerns that are waiting to bombard him, Tom pulls back just enough to look at Jake. He keeps one arm around Jake’s waist and gently grabs his chin with his other, rubbing his thumb just under Jake’s lower lip.

Staring at him with wide eyes, Jake stands there, frozen.

“Ready?” Tom asks softly, a gentle smile on his face.

Jake sucks in a shaky breath. “How—what should I do?”

“Rule number one with kissing: moisture is good. Lick your lips.”

Licking his lips, Jake stares at him.

“Good. When you’re ready, you’re gonna close your eyes and I’m gonna kiss you. You don’t have to do anything.”

“Okay,” Jake whispers and closes his eyes.

Tom lifts his chin a bit and as Jake’s heart hammers in his chest, Tom’s lips gently press against his lower lip in a light kiss. Tom’s lips feel so warm and soft and it feels bizarre to have somebody else’s lips against his own. But before he can fully analyze how it feels, Tom’s lips pull away and his first official kiss is over.

“How was that?” Tom asks. He’s still close enough to Jake that his breath is warming Jake’s skin.

“It…I don’t know. Can you do it again? Maybe a couple of times?”

Tom chuckles softly. “Don’t make it sound like I’ll be doing you a favor. I’m the one who should be thanking you.”

Jake’s about to tell him that’s ridiculous, when he’s distracted by Tom’s lips pressing against his own again. Tom’s lips linger a bit longer this time and Jake holds his breath. He can feel the warmth of Tom’s skin and his lips are still so soft against his own. It feels really nice. Not spectacular, but really nice.

When one kiss is done, Tom doesn’t pull back. Instead, he kisses Jake a few more times. Tension is making Jake stand there, frozen as his hands are clutching fistfuls of Tom’s shirt. Making matters worse, he’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to breath while Tom’s so close to him, but the lack of oxygen is making things even more difficult.

When Tom pulls back one last time, he rests his forehead against Jake’s. “So? Opinions? Did you change your mind about the whole thing?”

It’s a huge struggle to draw in enough air to answer Tom’s question and he’s shaking a bit from tension. “No, not at all. It’s just…strange.”

“That’s fine,” Tom whispers, his breath warm on Jake’s lips. “You wanna do some more?”

He definitely does—and hopefully, this stupid tension will start to fade and he’ll start enjoying himself—but that brings up problems. “When am I supposed to breathe? It seems rude to breathe when you’re right there, but I’ve seen people kissing for ages.”

Tom chuckles softly. “You can breathe through your nose anytime you want.”

That’s a relief. “Can you do it again? I want to try breathing while you do it and maybe I’ll calm down.”

“Sure. Lick your lips.”

Once Jake’s done that, Tom’s lips are back, lightly pressing kisses against his own. This time, Jake concentrates on forcing himself to suck in shaky breaths through his nose. As the kisses go on, Jake notices Tom’s breathing too. It’s incredibly weird to hear and feel somebody else breathing so close to him, but it’s also nice. It makes him realize that Tom’s just another human being and they have the same basic needs.

When Tom pulls back again and rests his forehead against Jake’s, Jake actually finds himself missing Tom’s lips. But he also comes to another realization: he wants to try kissing Tom. Kissing is supposed to involve two people doing it together and while that sounds very complicated, he wants to try his end of the process. “Can I kiss you?”

“Of course. I’ll stay still and you do whatever you want.”

When Tom releases his chin and pulls back a bit, Jake blinks his eyes open, staring at Tom. He’s smiling and he looks so happy, which is at complete odds from the tension and discomfort Jake’s dealing with. But it’s nice that Tom’s enjoying himself. Hopefully, Jake will get there too.

Tom closes his eyes and stands there, waiting. Jake’s tension shoots through the roof and his breath catches again as he stares at him. He can’t do this. He doesn’t really want to do this. He has no idea what he’s doing and he’ll do it wrong. This is crazy. He’ll never—

Before those thoughts can make him change his mind completely, Jake leans forward, tilts his head slightly and presses his lips against Tom’s lower lip, copying what Tom did to him and kissing him softly. Once he’s done it, he pulls back and stares at Tom with wide eyes, his heart racing. He just kissed another person on the lips!

Tom opens his eyes, grinning. “You did it! Thoughts?”

Jake blinks rapidly, shaking from tension. “Weird and uncomfortable but also nice. Can I do it again a couple of times?”

“Sure.”

“How—how many times can I do it?”

“As many times as you want.”

That’s a stupid answer and Jake gives Tom a look. “That’s an absurd commitment to make.”

Tom chuckles. “Fine. Your max is fifty. Go for it.”

Blinking at him, Jake waits for Tom to tell him he’s kidding…but he closes his eyes and goes back to standing there, completely relaxed and his hand warm on Jake’s side.

The enormity of the situation hits Jake. Tom is willing to stand here and stay perfectly still as Jake kisses him, possibly fifty times. These aren’t even real kisses but Tom’s willing to do this for him because he loves him. On one hand, Jake wants to cling to Tom and find a way to thank him for this gift he’s giving him, but he also wants to get back to this kissing business. Deciding the advancement of the kissing matter is more important, Jake leans towards Tom and lets his eyes drift shut as he kisses him again.

At first, his kisses are very short and his lips are barely touching Tom’s. But as Jake gets accustomed to the feel of Tom’s lips and being this close to him, he finds himself lingering on each kiss and breathing slowly. To change things up, he pulls back and tilts his head the other way, approaching Tom’s lips from the other side of his nose.

At one point, his lips get a bit dry and he licks them before diving back in. Tom’s lips are a little dry too and without thinking about it, he licks Tom’s lips to get them a bit wet.

Tom sucks in a sharp breath and his hands tighten on Jake’s sides and the bit of tension that’s faded away slams back through Jake and he pulls back, opening his eyes. “Sorry, sorry, sorry! I shouldn’t have done that.”

He can’t believe he just licked Tom’s lips! Even worse, he did it without asking!

But Tom’s smiling at him, a bit of heat in his eyes. “It’s fine, I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

Tom chuckles, but it sounds strained. As Jake worries that he’s really screwed things up, Tom shakes his head. “Stop it. I’m tense because that was hot and my cock got a little excited.”

Frowning, Jake stares down at Tom’s groin and sees the noticeable bulge in his pants. “Really?”

Laughing, Tom takes Jake’s hand and presses it to his cock, which really did get stiff. Amazed at his development, Jake squeezes the solid bulge, which makes Tom lets out a choked moan and he presses up against Jake’s hand. Grinning, Jake thinks he’s discovered a way to make himself feel more at ease with this whole thing. Sex is something he’s comfortable doing and if adding his tongue into this kissing business gets Tom aroused like this, maybe it’ll get Jake going too.

“Can I try something?” Jake asks, massaging Tom’s cock through his pants.

Tom’s eyes are closed and he’s breathing hard. “You can do whatever you want, as long as my pants get undone in the next few minutes. I’m dying.”

Chuckling, Jake quickly undoes the button and zipper on Tom’s pants and pushes them down enough to free his cock and wrap his hand around it. The familiar thickness and warmth of Tom’s cock in his hand makes more of Jake’s anxiety fade and he gently rubs his thumb against the underside.

Tom moans and drops his head against Jake’s, his eyes dropping closed. His hands are rubbing Jake’s shirt, digging into his sides. Having that layer of clothes between his own skin and Tom’s hands is a ridiculous situation that needs to be fixed right away and Jake pulls back enough to undo the buttons on his shirt and shrug it off, letting it fall to the ground.

Tom groans and puts his hands on Jake’s sides again, rubbing and squeezing. “Oh, this is fantastic.”

Jake chuckles as he squeezes Tom’s cock and slides his hand up to rub his thumb right underneath the head, watching a bit of pre-cum leak out. He’s feeling much more comfortable with things, but that makes him remember that this whole thing had started when he’d introduced his tongue into the kissing business and he wants to get back to that. “Can I use my tongue when I kiss you?”

Letting out a shaky groan, Tom pulls him closer and presses his forehead against Jake’s, his breathing choppy. “You can do whatever the hell you want, Jake Seever. I feel amazing. All I ask is that you do things that make you feel good too.”

Jake’s still undecided about the whole kissing thing, but he loves having this effect on Tom. Prior to this, Tom was usually in charge of their sexual activities and it makes Jake feel happy and weirdly powerful to have put Tom into such a state just by licking his lips and rubbing his cock.

Grinning, Jake tilts his head and kisses Tom again, lightly pressing against his lips. But after a few of those, he licks at the seam of Tom’s lips, which makes Tom shiver and his arms tighten around his back. Enjoying that reaction, Jake keeps licking Tom’s lips until Tom lets out a gasp. That parts his lips enough that Jake’s tongue slides between them—and that opens up a whole new area of exploration.

It feels so strange to be sliding his tongue into Tom’s warm, wet mouth but then there’s something brushing against his own tongue, which first sends a flood of tension through him and his breath catches. But when he realizes that it was Tom’s own tongue, Jake decides to be brave and rubs his tongue against Tom’s. When Tom gently rubs back, it sends a surprising jolt of arousal through Jake and he lets out a moan. His cock begins to stiffen and Jake realizes this must be why people enjoy kissing so much. It makes sense. Tongues have a lot of nerve endings in them.

Tom’s hands slide up his back, pulling him closer to him, which is exactly what Jake wants. Tom’s stiff cock is leaking over his hand as he keeps gently squeezing it. He can’t keep rubbing his thumb over it because he’s too distracted by his own aching cock pressing against his pants and moving his tongue against Tom’s. He slides around Tom’s tongue for a while, Tom’s tongue staying gentle and not doing much more than rubbing up against Jake’s. Then Jake gets a bit braver and rubs harder against his tongue. He’s breathing in choppy bursts through his nose, listening to Tom doing the same. When his hand begins to ache from the tight grip it has on Tom’s shirt and his own cock becomes desperate for freedom, he pulls back from Tom’s mouth with extreme difficulty.

As he stares at Tom, he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Tom’s eyes are barely open, dark with arousal and his lips are shining with spit—both his own and Jake’s. They’re both trembling and incredibly turned on, and they’re both still wearing most of their clothes and nobody’s fucking anybody or sucking anybody’s cock. “This is amazing,” Jake mumbles.

Tom lets out a breathy chuckle. “Trust me, we’re on the same page.”

“Can we take off our clothes?”

In response, Tom pulls back from him and yanks his clothes off, moving faster than Jake’s ever seen him. Grinning, Jake gets rid of his own clothes, then he reaches out and wraps his arms back around Tom’s waist, loving how smooth and warm his skin feels beneath his hands. Even better, he slots his hard cock against Tom’s and that sends tingles of arousal through him. Tom winds his arms around him and without thinking about it, Jake slides his tongue right back into Tom’s mouth, letting his eyes drop shut as he rubs his tongue against Tom’s. As they let their tongues tangle and slide together, Tom keeps making these wonderful happy sounds—sighing and moaning and gasping—and Jake finds himself echoing him, making the sounds without being aware of it.

Eventually, Tom slowly changes things up. After rubbing their tongues together for a while, Tom withdraws slowly and kisses Jake’s lips before sliding his tongue back into his mouth. It takes a while for Jake to understand the rhythm and he begins copying Tom, following his lead and alternating being in Tom’s mouth with exchanging kisses.

Jake feels a little tense at this new pattern because he finds himself worrying over whether he’s doing it right. How long should there be between the tongue thing and the kissing thing? What if they’re not in perfect sync with each other and one person does the kissing thing while the other person was still doing the tongue thing? Is it okay to stay in Tom’s mouth or should they be alternating whose mouth they’re in? Is there a specific time limit when they should switch? His concerns slow his movements and he eventually finds himself barely letting his tongue brush against Tom’s lips.

After another kiss, Tom doesn’t dive back in but presses their foreheads together, rubbing his hands on Jake’s back. “What’s wrong? If you wanna stop, you just stop. You don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do.”

“No, I want to keep going. But I’m worried I’m not doing it right. It seems complicated.”

“So is having sex or giving a blow job, but you’re learning how to do those too. It’ll take time. I’m really happy with the way things are going.”

Jake frowns, his eyes still closed. It’s amazing that he’s only tense regarding the kissing part and that he’s perfectly comfortable standing naked and pressed up against Tom’s equally naked body. But the kissing thing is making him tense again. “I hate that I’m so unsure about it.”

“You’re unsure because you’ve never done it before. I’d be unsure as hell if I were part of your pastry team.”

Jake lets out an annoyed sigh. “You’re so much better at this than me.”

Tom chuckles softly. “Yeah, you might say I’m a professional.”

That makes Jake laugh and he opens his eyes. Tom tilts his head and kisses him gently, just soft, chaste kisses that don’t involve his tongue. It’s a great sign that these kisses are already familiar to Jake. In an obvious attempt to distract him, Tom reaches between them and wraps a hand around their cocks, pressing them together and rubbing his thumb over the leaking heads, which sends a jolt of arousal through Jake and makes him gasp loudly. Tom keeps kissing him gently, alternating rubbing his thumb against their cocks with fisting them. It has the intended effect and Jake finds himself parting his lips and letting Tom lick into his mouth and find his tongue.

Jake experiments a little bit. Instead of waiting for Tom to withdraw his tongue and kiss him, Jake tries doing it on his own. To his surprise, nothing bad happens. Tom doesn’t get upset that Jake did it at the wrong time or the wrong way. In fact, when Jake parts his lips again, Tom’s tongue is right there, ready to slide back in.

The longer they continue, the more Jake relaxes. It’s so arousing to rub his tongue against Tom’s and the movements slowly become familiar. Jake tries a few different things—tilting his head to the other side, pushing Tom’s tongue back into his mouth or pulling his own back to encourage Tom to follow his—and Tom doesn’t make a fuss. He doesn’t tell Jake he’s doing it wrong. He just follows Jake’s lead.

Eventually, Tom starts changing things up too. He sometimes pulls back to switch sides and he pushes Jake’s tongue into his mouth. Jake begins to understand there aren’t set rules for this. It’s just like sex; the most important thing is to do what feels good and react to your partner’s cues to keep things in sync. They can both decide to change things up whenever they want and the other person will follow along.

Jake has no idea how long they stand there, naked and kissing while Tom squeezes and rubs their cocks. Eventually, Tom pulls back and rests his forehead against Jake’s, shaking. “We can keep going, but I think we’re both gonna end up coming, so we gotta decide what we wanna do.”

Since the kissing thing has been going so well, Jake feels brave enough to explore more things and he pulls back from Tom with an eager grin. “Can we shower together?”

“Sure! Come on.”


	11. Chapter 11

Taking Jake by the hand, Tom leads them into his bathroom. Tom’s room is smaller than Jake’s—he doesn’t have a full kitchen—but their bathrooms are similar, complete with a large tub and an enormous shower.

Tom leads him into the shower and gets the water going, letting Jake feel the water and decide if he’s happy with the temperature before he shuts the glass door behind them. He changes the water settings until water is coming down from the two shower heads on opposing sides, filling the shower stall with warm, cascading water.

As before, Jake’s nerves have returned. This is uncharted territory and he has no idea how this is supposed to go. Do they wash as they have sex? Do they wash each other? Do they wash themselves and do it as quickly as possible before starting the sex part?

Tom’s sorting through the enormous pile of bottles he has stacked on the shelves attached to the wall as Jake stands under the warm spray, chewing on his lip.

“I have more shampoos and soaps than most drug stores, so you can choose what you wanna use.”

The warm water streams over him as Jake stands there, curling his toes against the tiles and wrapping his arms around himself, tense and uncomfortable. “Okay.”

Tom glances over at him and frowns, probably recognizing Jake’s tension. “Hey,” he says softly, looking worried. Padding over the wet tiles, Tom pulls him into his arms as the water warms Jake’s back. Jake melts against Tom and some of his tension fades again. It’s marvelous how that happens, but that doesn’t solve his problem. “What’s wrong?” Tom whispers into his ear.

Jake’s so tired of his stupid doubts and not knowing what he’s doing but he doesn’t want to put any of that into words again. Tom shouldn’t be forced to listen to them all the time. Gently rubbing Jake’s back, Tom tilts his head and kisses Jake’s neck, nuzzling his skin. It feels really nice and Jake clings harder to Tom.

Reaching between them, Tom shifts to slot his still-hard cock against Jake’s and wraps his hand around both of them, slowly rubbing his thumb over the heads and sending tingles of arousal through Jake again. Moaning against Tom’s shoulder, Jake tightens his grip on him, his tension having slowly changing from discomfort to arousal. Tom keeps kissing his neck until he pulls back. Without a word, he grabs Jake’s chin and kisses him, licking into his mouth and rubbing against his tongue. Immediately, Jake settles into the familiar rhythm, shivers of arousal coursing through him from Tom’s hand rubbing his cock and Tom’s tongue brushing against his own. It’s so nice to touch Tom’s back without any layers of clothes in the way.

Jake forgets all about his earlier concerns, until Tom eventually pulls back, ending the kisses with a few chaste ones. But he doesn’t go far. He wraps his hand around Jake’s back and keeps rubbing his thumb over the head of Jake’s cock, keeping him nicely distracted.

“Talk to me,” Tom whispers. “This won’t work if you don’t talk to me. I can’t read your mind and I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Jake sighs softly. “I hate not knowing what I’m doing. I know you’re fine with it, but I don’t think I would be if our roles were reversed.”

Tom chuckles softly, water streaming down his face. “I think you’re underestimating yourself. Would I be this patient with any random person? Probably not, unless they were paying me to be patient. The difference is that I love you. And I think if our roles were reversed, you’d treat me the same way I’m treating you. It’s not an inconvenience.”

Jake stares at him, steam slowly rising around them as the warm water pelts his back. “I’m terrified that you’ll change your mind about that and decide I’m too much work.”

Looking at him very seriously, Tom kisses him—a hard kiss without any tongue—and he looks almost angry. “You’ll never be too much work for me. You’re a God damn joy to be around and I love you so fucking much that I can’t believe I really get to have this.”

Jake stares at him. It’s still hard to believe Tom’s words, but there’s only one way to see if he’s serious. “Can I tell you my concerns about showering?”

Releasing Jake’s cock, Tom gives him a soft kiss and wraps his arms around him. “Of course.”

“How exactly is this supposed to go?”

“We get ourselves clean first, then we have sex.”

Jake makes a face. “Yes, but how? Do we wash ourselves? Do we wash each other? Are we supposed to stay in sync? Will you be upset if I take too long?”

“I’d love to wash you, but we can wash ourselves. It’s all about what we both want.”

Jake hadn’t really thought about washing Tom, but the idea brings on a flood of concerns. Washing is such a personal thing and Tom must have preferences about it, just like Jake does. Jake would feel uncomfortable throughout the process and he’d have to stop and ask him for direction or approval every few seconds, and that wouldn’t be fun. “I don’t think I’m comfortable washing you. Can we just do it ourselves?”

Tom smiles softly. “Of course.”

Jake makes a face, conflicted. “But you said you’d like to wash me. I want you to do what you want too.”

“I want you to be comfortable. That’s my number one desire, no matter what we’re doing.”

“I’d probably get comfortable. Eventually.” Hopefully.

“Sure, but we’ve done a lot of new things today already. We don’t have to visit the entire amusement park in one day.”

That makes Jake smile as he rubs his fingers over Tom’s warm, wet back, but he’s still worried. “But you’ll tell me if there’s something you really wanna do?”

Tom catches his lips in a gentle kiss. “Of course. But washing you is something I can absolutely live without. If you decide you never wanna let me do that, it’s fine.”

‘Never’ is an awfully long time, but Jake doesn’t want to make any promises that he might end up breaking. Pulling back a bit, Tom reaches down and fists Jake’s cock, making his arousal burn a little brighter again. His toes curl as he drops his head against Tom’s shoulder and clings to him as he lets out a soft moan.

Tom chuckles softly and kisses his neck. “There you go. Nice and relaxed. When you’re ready, we’ll wash ourselves and then decide where we wanna go from there.”

As Jake keeps holding Tom and water pours over them, he slowly begins to relax again. Now that the pressure of washing Tom has been removed, Jake feels a lot better. Tom keeps his grip on his cock light enough that it’s a nice distraction but not enough for his arousal to overwhelm him.

Eventually, Jake pulls back a bit and lifts Tom’s chin to kiss him. Tom looks worried and Jake gives him a smile. “I think I’m okay now.”

That makes Tom smile too. “Okay.”

Releasing his cock, Tom turns to his array of bathing products and grabs one of the bottles. “Use whatever you want.”

Padding across the wet tiles, Jake peers at the selection and finds a shampoo and soap he likes before heading back to his shower head and ducking underneath the spray. Once he scrubs the shampoo into his hair, muscle memory takes over and it’s easy to focus on what he’s doing and his stupid doubts fade away. But when he’s rinsing himself off, he happens to glance over at Tom, who’s staring at him with a smile on his face.

Frowning, Jake looks down at himself, wondering if he still has soap somewhere. Not finding anything, he raises his eyebrows at Tom. “What?”

“Nothing. Just enjoying the view.”

That makes Jake blush and his first instinct is to cover himself up, but Tom must see his discomfort because he closes his eyes and ducks back under the water…

…and now Jake’s the guilty party because he can’t seem to stop staring at him. He’s seen Tom naked countless of times but he’s never taken the time to appreciate Tom’s body. When their sexual arrangement had been professional, Jake had always been more focused on himself, and when he’d taken care of Tom after his attack, Jake hadn’t even though to stare at his body. It wouldn’t have been appropriate anyway.

But now, nothing’s stopping him. He can stare at his entire body and watch the water streaming down his skin. Tom’s still half-hard and Jake can’t decide what to stare at longer—the muscles in Tom’s chest shifting as he moves, the relaxed, happy smile on his face, the water streaming down his stomach and legs, or his stiff cock with his balls hanging below. Tom’s more muscular than Jake is and it’s the first time Jake’s realizing how gorgeous he is. The longer he stares, the more his own arousal builds again and he wraps his hand around his cock, rubbing in slow strokes.

At one point, Tom opens his eyes and his smile grows into a smirk when he sees Jake staring. “Like what you’re seeing, Seever?”

That reminds Jake that he hadn’t felt comfortable with Tom’s staring and Tom had stopped right away—and here’s Jake, staring at him without a thought. Jerking his eyes away, he releases his cock and stares down at the tiles. “Sorry. That was rude.”

“Kinda, yeah. But lucky for you, I love being stared at so you can keep doing it.”

That makes Jake’s eyes jerk back up. Tom’s grinning and he runs his hands up his chest, sliding his hands over his wet skin until he reaches his neck, then he begins a slow path downwards; moving over his chest and stomach and parting his legs as he rubs the insides of his thighs. Tilting his head back, Tom parts his lips and lets out a moan and Jake tracks his hands as Tom slides them back up his stomach and chest, stopping to rub and pinch his nipples. Shaking, Jake wraps his hand around his cock again, rubbing it slowly as arousal tingles through him. He’s barely aware of the water pouring down on him as he watches Tom.

Tom’s grinning as he keeps playing with his nipples and they slowly stiffen into little peaks that he tugs and rubs his thumbs over. He’s back to being fully hard and he slides one hand down to wrap around his cock, fisting it and rubbing his thumb over the head. Jake lets out a shaky groan, his toes curling against the tiles. Tom’s the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen, and that includes any dessert he’s ever made or seen.

“You look better than any dessert I’ve ever seen,” he mumbles.

Tom opens his eyes and laughs, his eyes sparkling. “That’s the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

Jake manages a choked laugh, his lips parted as arousal races through him. “It’s true.”

Just when Jake thinks he could probably come just from watching Tom, the gorgeous bastard decides to drive Jake even more crazy by fisting his cock harder and bringing his other hand down to cup and squeeze his balls. Jake’s mouth waters and he barely manages to restrain himself from sinking to his knees and wrapping his lips around Tom’s cock. Due to his cock sucking skills still being terrible, that wouldn’t be as enjoyable in reality as it is in his imagination. Not to mention that the hard tiles would kill his knees.

Then Tom pushes all those thoughts out of Jake’s head when he turns around and braces himself against the wall with one hand as he spreads his legs and rubs his fingers down his crack, parting his cheeks with his fingers and sliding over his hole as water streams down his skin. Tom’s ass is as beautiful as the rest of him and Jake can’t stop staring at his hole. He has a sudden, desperate urge to fuck Tom, which is surprising.

Moaning, Tom keeps rubbing over his hole before he slides the tip of two fingers into himself—and that sends such a jolt of heat through Jake that he lets out a choked gasp and squeezes the base of his cock to keep from coming. Glancing over his shoulder, Tom smirks at Jake. “You’re liking what you’re seeing, huh?”

Jake can’t even begin to put together the words to respond to him, he’s just a shaking, turned on mess and he’s going to come very soon. Tom turns around and slowly saunters up to him, wrapping his arms around him and glancing down at his cock. “Oh, yeah, you’re enjoying yourself, huh?”

Letting out a shaky laugh, Jake clutches Tom’s side while his other hand keeps a tight grip on his cock. “I’ve never been this turned on in my entire life.”

Kissing his neck, Tom smiles against his skin. “What do you wanna do about it?”

“I—I don’t know. Everything. Anything.”

“Can I suck your cock for a while?”

A strangled sound comes out of Jake’s mouth and he’s nodding frantically. Pulling back, Tom wanders away to do something while Jake closes his eyes and takes deep breaths. He doesn’t want to come as soon as Tom’s mouth is on him, which means he has to calm down a little bit. The sound of something dropping to the floor makes Jake open his eyes and he sees Tom’s put a foam pad on the floor and he’s kneeling down, smiling up at him. Seeing the pad makes Jake smile. “Glad to see you’re fully prepared.”

Tom holds up a condom between two fingers and smirks. “I’ve had a lot of sex in this shower and I’ve learned the hard way how to keep things comfortable.”

For the millionth time, Jake’s so glad that Tom knows what he’s doing. He can’t imagine how frustrated he’d be if he’d be dealing with somebody who doesn’t have Tom’s experience. He watches Tom tear open the condom and thankfully, Tom doesn’t bother asking him before he gently pulls Jake’s hand off his cock and puts the condom on him. Jake’s skills at putting on a condom are still atrocious and adding in the water and how turned on he is would just lead to frustration.

Tom gently strokes his cock a few times and smiles up at him before he wraps his hand around the base and slides Jake’s cock into his mouth. The heat of Tom’s mouth is as amazing as it always is and Jake stares down at him, loving how Tom’s lips look as they’re wrapped around his cock. Jake slides his hands into Tom’s hair and clutches handfuls of it, feeling Tom’s resulting moan vibrate through his cock and making Jake’s legs shake.

He lets Tom set the pace for a while, sliding up and down his cock as his tongue rubs the underside and head of his cock. Jake slowly begins thrusting his hips, pushing his cock deeper into his mouth and Tom shifts closer to him and wraps his hands around Jake’s hips, urging him to thrust deeper. When Jake follows Tom’s direction and his cock slips into the tight heat of Tom’s throat, his eyes slide shut and he lets out a groan, clutching Tom’s hair. Tom swallows around his cock and every tiny shift of his throat ripples along Jake’s cock, sending jolts of arousal running through him.

Eventually, Tom has to pull back to breathe, but he keeps Jake’s cock in his mouth, rubbing his tongue against the condom covered head of his cock. Shaking, Jake keeps thrusting his cock in and out of Tom’s mouth, staring down at him in awe.

Before he’d started learning how to suck cock, he hadn’t known how hard it actually is—never mind deepthroating like Tom does. Not only that, but Tom makes it look so easy. And from the way Tom’s slowly fisting his own cock, he loves doing it.

Squeezing Jake’s hips, Tom encourages him to fuck his mouth harder and Jake eagerly speeds up, slipping his cock deeper into Tom’s mouth with each thrust. As his arousal builds, Jake knows he’ll be able to come from this soon—but to his surprise, Tom pulls off, stroking his cock as he licks his lips and smiles up at Jake. “You wanna come like this or you wanna try something new?”

Jake smiles, the familiarity of Tom sucking his cock having made all of his earlier doubts fade. He knows exactly what he wants. “I wanna do whatever you wanna do.”

Rubbing Jake’s cock, Tom bites his lip and looks a bit hesitant. “Do you wanna fuck me?”

If Tom had asked a month ago, Jake’s answer would have been a solid ‘no’. But remembering how incredible the experience of fucking Tom had been when Tom had been on top, not to mention that Jake finds himself loving all sorts of things he’d previously not liked purely because of his feelings for Tom, he knows he’ll enjoy it. But doing that involves a lot of unknowns and those old doubts creep back, clenching in Jake’s gut as his nervous fingers play with Tom’s hair. “How would that work?”

“We can dry off and go to bed or we can stay here. If we stay in the shower, it would be most comfortable if we stay standing up. I can face the wall and you’d fuck me from behind. But we can do it however you want.”

Remembering how gorgeous Tom had looked when he’d been standing against the wall, fingering himself, Jake suddenly desperately wants to fuck him in that position. He has no idea how to go about doing it, but he wants to try. “I wanna do it like that.”

“Against the wall?”

“Yeah. But you have to tell me what to do and how and when.”

Tom grins and stands up, releasing Jake’s cock and giving him a quick kiss on the lips. “I will. Come here.”

Taking Jake by the hand, Tom leads him over to the wall and grabs a bottle of lube off the shelf—because of course, Tom has dozens of different lubes in the shower—and stops when he’s close to the wall. Handing the lube to Jake, Tom spreads his legs and reaches up to grab two handles that are attached to the wall.

Jake hadn’t noticed them previously, but now that he’s looking, he sees a bunch of hooks, handles and little bars attached on the walls and ceiling. “You really do have a lot of sex in this shower, don’t you?”

Tom laughs. “Yep. A lot of my clients are very fond of it and so am I. There’s something about the pouring water that makes it more interesting.”

Surprisingly, Jake’s nearly forgotten about the water streaming down around him, but he can see the appeal. Opening the bottle of lube, he coats his fingers…and then freezes. “How should I do this?”

“Prep me just like I prep you. I don’t need a lot. Two fingers, four and then I’m ready. Remember to slick your cock with lube before you slide in.”

The idea of sliding his cock into Tom under his own power seems like an overwhelming prospect, but Jake decides to focus on one step at a time. Putting the lube down, he carefully parts Tom’s ass cheeks with his other hand and sees his hole. Gently rubbing his slick fingers over the puckered opening, he’s surprised at Tom letting out a gasp as he shoves his ass back.

That gives Jake a burst of confidence and he eagerly rubs his fingers over Tom’s hole with more pressure, knowing how good it feels to be on the other end of this. Tom’s already wet and it’s so easy to slide the tip of one finger into him and when Tom groans and eagerly pushes back, Jake’s finger effortlessly slides into the heat of his body. It feels as amazing as it did when Jake had done this to Tom when Tom had been staying in Jake’s room. Smiling, Jake presses another finger next to the one thrusting into Tom and both fingers easily slide into Tom as Tom moans and rocks back against his fingers.

Tom’s doing most of the work, but having done this once before gives Jake enough familiarity with it that he starts thrusting his fingers into Tom, increasing the pace. That makes Tom let out a choked moan and his head drops back, his eyes closed as water streams down his face.

“You like that, huh?” Jake mumbles, watching his fingers sliding in and out of Tom’s ass.

“Oh, yeah. F-fuck. I told you I could probably come from you fingering me.”

While that’s something Jake would love to see, he’s even more excited to get his cock into Tom again. He adds a third, then a fourth finger, setting a steady pace and loving the sounds Tom makes and the way he’s shaking and twitching, his hands tightening on the handles he’s gripping. It feels incredible to know that Jake’s the one who’s making Tom react like this. Seeing Tom’s joy and arousal is really arousing and Jake’s own cock throbs between his legs.

Finally, Tom lets out a loud groan. “Jake…please get your cock in me or I’m serious, I’m gonna come.”

Jake’s a bit concerned that maybe he’d pushed Tom too far, but then he reasons with himself that he doesn’t have any experience doing this for somebody else and he doesn’t have enough experience with Tom’s limits to know when to stop. Pulling his fingers out, he’s left staring down at Tom’s ass and his own cock and his nerves make his stomach clench. “How…”

Tom grins at him over his shoulder. “Lube first.”

Oh, right. Jake picks up the bottle of lube from the floor and liberally coats his cock. When the lube bottle’s been closed and returned to the floor, Jake’s back to feeling lost and nervous. “I…the lube’s done. Now what?”

“I’ll help. Put one hand on my hip and grab the base of your cock with the other so you can guide your cock.”

Reaching behind himself, Tom parts his cheeks as he spreads his legs further apart. Chewing on his lip from nerves, Jake reaches out and places a light, trembling hand on Tom’s wet hip and grabs the base of his cock with the other. Stepping closer to Tom, Jake stares down at his hole and holds his breath as he gently presses the head of his cock against Tom’s opening. Since Tom had done this for him the first time, Jake’s finding it strange. There’s resistance and Jake’s terrified that he’s going to hurt him. He keeps going back and forth about it in his head and he rubs the head of his cock over Tom’s rim, loving how it feels when he does it but worrying over hurting him.

Tom’s tense and lets out a loud moan. “Jesus fucking…Jake, you’re gonna kill me.”

Alarmed, Jake immediately takes a hasty step back. “I’m sorry. Oh, my God, I—”

Tom huffs out a shaky laugh and glances over his shoulder. “That’s not what I meant. I meant that I’m gonna die if you keep teasing me like that.”

Jake frowns. “Like what? What was I doing?”

“Rubbing your cock against my hole.”

Immediately, Jake feels bad. “Oh, I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to tease. It just feels strange. There’s…resistance. I don’t feel comfortable pushing in.”

Tom smiles over his shoulder. “I’ll be fine. You know I can handle your cock. You _know_ that.”

Jake clenches his jaw, feeling embarrassed at his own silliness. “I know. I’m just…”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Tom spins around and gently grabs Jake’s face with both hands, rubbing their noses together and giving him a quick kiss and a soft smile. “Don’t be embarrassed. If you’re not comfortable, then we’ll do something different.”

“I really want to fuck you,” Jake mumbles, still anxious but also disappointed in himself. “But I’m too scared about hurting you. I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m not willing to take the risk that I’ll hurt you.”

Tom smiles and kisses Jake again. “I completely understand and it means the world to me that not hurting me is important to you.”

Jake frowns. What a silly comment. “Well, of course it is.”

Tom’s responding smile is a little sad, but then he drops his hands from Jake’s face. “I have an idea. You’ll still be fucking me, but I’ll get myself on your cock so you don’t have to deal with that.”

Looking down at the floor as warm water pours over him, Jake immediately hates the idea of lying down on it. It would be extremely uncomfortable and the water constantly pouring into his face would be annoying. But before he can express his dislike of the idea, Tom’s saying “I’ll be right back” and stepping out of the shower.

He’s back moments later with a bundle of mysterious straps that he hangs up from various hooks in the ceiling and walls. Jake has no idea what it is and how it’ll help their situation, until Tom turns to him with a grin.

“Any idea what this is?”

Jake frowns. “No. Absolutely no idea.”

Tom laughs. “It’s a sling.”

When Jake opens his mouth to ask for clarification, Tom’s grin widens. “For sex.”

That makes Jake’s confused frown turn to a curious one and he watches in fascination as Tom grabs two of the straps and hoists himself onto the straps. At first, it doesn’t seem possible that Tom can get _into_ the bundle of straps rather than just clinging to the outside of them, but Tom quickly arranges himself and spreads out the straps and they slowly turn into a hammock.

Tom leave his legs dangling off the edge and grabs the straps to adjust himself and shift his ass right to the edge of the sling.

Jake’s fascinated by the device but he keeps glancing up at the hooks. “Are you sure it’ll hold?”

Tom chuckles. “Oh, yeah. I’ve had people three times my weight in it and it’s been fine.”

“Is it comfortable?”

“Very. Everybody loves it.”

That’s surprising. “People enjoy having sex in this device?”

Tom laughs. “Yep. I’ve fucked a lot of people in this thing and I’ve been fucked by a lot of people. It’s really useful for people with back problems and it adds more variety to shower sex.”

Jake’s finding all of this very interesting, but as Tom shifts around, Jake’s eyes are automatically drawn to Tom’s hole and before he’s aware of it, he’s stepping closer to Tom and reaching for it. But before he actually touches Tom, he freezes and glances down at Tom, who’s making himself comfortable in the sling. “Can I…”

“Go ahead.”

His fingers easily slip into Tom again and this view is even more arousing than the other one had been. It’s incredible to see his fingers gliding into Tom and seeing his wet rim clinging to his fingers as he thrusts in and out. He really could stay here all day and watch himself do this, but Tom’s breathing quickly picks up speed again and one of Tom’s hands massages his cock. When Tom lets out another happy moan, Jake slowly withdraws his fingers. But now they’re back to where they were before and Jake’s nerves slowly return.

Tom glances down at him. “Don’t be nervous. When you’re ready, step close to me and hold the base of your cock with one hand and rub your cock over my hole just like you were doing before.”

Still nervous, Jake wraps his hand around his cock and pads a little closer to Tom over the wet tiles and cautiously presses the head of his cock against Tom’s hole. To his surprise, Tom wraps his legs around Jake’s waist and slowly begins pulling himself closer, bringing the sling and himself closer and as Jake watches in fascination, Tom’s hole parts around the head of his cock and his cock effortlessly glides into Tom’s tight heat. Jake gasps, staring at his cock disappearing into Tom’s body as heat clutches the entire length.

Tom lets out a low moan and he keeps pulling himself closer until Jake’s entire cock is wrapped in the warmth of Tom’s ass and his balls are brushing Tom’s skin. That’s when Tom stops moving, his legs tight around Jake’s waist. “You okay?”

Jake tears his eyes off the incredible sight of his cock being buried inside Tom and stares at him, feeling how wide his eyes are and how his mouth is gaping open. “I…yeah…oh, yeah…” he whispers.

Tom frowns. “You sure? We don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable.”

“I…this is amazing,” Jake mumbles, staring down at Tom and not believing that he’s actually doing this. Arousal is pulsing through him as the tight heat of Tom’s body stays wrapped around his cock.

That makes Tom smile. “I think so too. Your cock feels really good inside me. Not too big, not too small. It feels amazing.”

They both stay frozen for a while, Tom smiling at him as Jake struggles to keep breathing and staring between Tom and the place where his cock is buried inside Tom.

Eventually, Tom shifts a bit. “Can I start moving? You can let me know if it’s too intense.”

At the mention of Tom moving, Jake’s knees nearly give out. He can’t believe this is going to get even better! Gaping at Tom, he nods frantically. Tom chuckles and reaches up his arms to grab the straps and he slowly begins rocking back and forth on Jake’s cock, his heels digging into Jake’s back.

Just like when they’d done this the first time, feeling Tom’s body sliding up and down his cock makes this incredible experience even better. When Jake adds in the incredible sight of being able to watch his cock sliding in and out of Tom and the way Tom’s rim is clinging to his cock as he moves back and forth, he never wants this to end.

As Tom settles into a rhythm, he drops his head back against the sling and closes his eyes with a moan, getting lost in his own pleasure. And seeing Tom enjoying fucking himself on Jake’s cock sends such a shudder or arousal through him that Jake’s hands scramble to grab hold of something and he ends up digging his fingers into Tom’s thighs as they flex every time Tom pulls him back and forth. To his surprise, Jake feels his hips starting to thrust without him making the decision to do it. Staring down, he times his tiny thrusts to meet Tom’s. It feels so damn good and he begins thrusting harder, which makes his hips smack into Tom’s ass, which makes Tom cry out and dig his heels harder into Jake.

“Fuck! Oh, that’s good. Do—do that again. Keep doing that.”

Seeing how much Tom’s loving it and remembering that it had been okay to do this last time they’d had sex like this makes Jake’s confidence grow and he grins as he starts thrusting harder, sliding his cock in and out of Tom. Now that he knows Tom’s loving it and he’s not hurting him, the last of Jake’s nerves fade away and he lets his own arousal overtake him. Tightening his grasp on Tom’s legs, Jake fucks him harder and gradually, Tom stops moving and just keeps his legs slung around his waist as Jake completely takes over, watching a look of pure bliss spread over Tom’s face as he keeps gasping and shaking.

“Oh, you’re—fuck, that’s it. You’re—you’re doing amazing. Fuck…I—God—keep…keep going. Just like that. Oh, fuck!”

Jake’s arousal keeps rushing through him in intense waves and his hips are smacking into Tom’s ass on every thrust as he fucks him hard, constantly looking back and forth between Tom’s face and his own cock sliding into Tom’s body. It feels really nice to be the one doing all the work and making Tom feel so good. As his arousal starts to climb, Jake’s ready to come, but he remembers that he’s not in his usual role here and he can’t just come when he’s ready. Tom needs to come first and finish getting his pleasure out of Jake’s cock before Jake can come. That’s the proper order of things. “I—Tom—I’m gonna—I have to come. Please—please—I wanna see you come.”

Tom reaches down and starts fisting himself, working his cock at a fast pace and tightening his legs around Jake. “Keep—keep fucking me. Keep—don’t stop.”

Jake keeps thrusting into Tom, gasping for breath as the warm water pours down around him.

Finally, Tom’s tensing around Jake’s cock and he’s coming, which is good because having Tom’s body clenched around his cock feels as incredible as it did when they did this the first time and Jake’s coming within seconds, his orgasm slamming through him as he fucks Tom through it.

From there, things get a little hazy. Jake’s feeling light-headed and his legs aren’t working properly and he ends up sitting on the floor for a bit until Tom’s arms are wrapping around him and helping him up. Everything stays foggy for a while. But eventually, Jake comes back to himself and he finds himself in Tom’s bed, lying on Tom’s chest with Tom’s arms and the blanket wrapped around him.

Tom’s smiling down at him. “Hi. You okay?”

Jake manages a weak chuckle. “I…God damn. You know I don’t swear a lot. But…God damn.”

That makes Tom laugh and he slides down the bed and rolls Jake over onto his back before gently kissing him, his eyes shining. “I agree. That was amazing. So you liked it?”

Chuckling again, Jake kisses Tom and makes himself comfortable on the pillow. “I loved it.”

“Good.” Tom lies back down on his pillow and smiles at him.

Jake’s pretty sure he has the same sappy smile on his own face. “You know what else I love?”

“What?”

Smiling, Jake leans over to kiss Tom one more time because that’s something he can do now. And isn’t that something? Staring at Tom in wonder and his heart glowing, Jake can’t believe how lucky he is. “You. I love you.”

That makes Tom’s eyes light up and he looks so damn happy, which makes Jake feel ever better about this whole thing. Everything’s amazing and Jake can’t believe this is actually happening.


	12. Chapter 12

After they wake up, they both brush their teeth and then decide to go back to bed and make out for a while, since that’s a wonderful activity that they can do whenever they want now. Tom can’t believe how well yesterday had gone. He’s amazed by Jake’s bravery and he loves how eager he is to try new things and how much he loves Tom.

After making out, Tom’s lying on Jake’s chest and Tom falls into a half-doze until Jake suddenly shifts a bit. “Do you think we should tell Chesa and our parents about us?”

Tom’s wide awake in seconds and he lifts his head up, grinning at Jake and excitement rushing through him. He hadn’t wanted to pressure Jake about it, but telling other people about their relationship will make it even more real and that’s something Tom’s really excited to do. “I’d love to tell them.”

To his relief, Jake’s smile is relaxed and happy too. “Me too. Should we do that today?”

Tom bursts out laughing. “God. You’re gonna be the death of me, Seever.”

Jake directs that usual confused frown his way. “Why? What did I say?”

Laughing, Tom crawls up Jake’s body and kisses him hard. “Nothing. You’re just being you and I love you so everything’s perfect.”

Jake smiles against his lips and wraps his arms around his back. “So I’m meeting your standards?”

“You bet,” Tom murmurs and catches Jake’s lips for another kiss.

* * *

Following Jake towards his room, Tom hangs back, ready to follow Jake’s lead. He’s excited about telling Chesa and Jake’s parents about their relationship, but he doesn’t want to put any pressure on Jake.

Chesa’s sitting at the island in Jake’s kitchen, eating her dessert and her eyebrows rise up when they come in together. “Early start today?”

Tom grins. “You could say that.”

“Go to gym?”

As Tom makes his way to the fridge to pull out his own dessert, Jake sits down next to Chesa. “No. I…spent the night in Tom’s room.”

“Oh?”

Grabbing a fork from the drawer, Tom smiles, knowing Chesa’s eyebrows have risen.

“Yes. That’s something we’re going to be doing a lot from now on. I hope.”

Bringing his dessert to the island counter, Tom sits down next to him and gently bumps his shoulder. “No hoping necessary. It’s a fact.”

That makes Jake smile and Tom barely restrains himself from wrapping his arms around him and kissing him.

“So…you two…together now?” Chesa sounds cautious, as if she wants to make sure she understands what’s going on without making assumptions.

Jake’s smile grows into a grin and he nods. “Yes.”

There’s a clatter as Chesa drops her fork. “Oh, wonderful! Very happy news!” Reaching over, she grabs Jake’s hand and squeezes it.

“I’m glad you approve,” Jake says softly, still smiling.

Eating his dessert with one hand, Tom reaches under the island and puts his hand on Jake’s thigh, rubbing gently. “Chesa knows we’re both amazing, so having two amazing people be together can’t be anything but fantastic.”

That makes Chesa laugh and Jake bumps him with his shoulder, but he finds Tom’s hand on his thigh and tangles their fingers together, squeezing hard and looking so happy that Tom forces himself to look down at his dessert so he doesn’t shove Jake onto the island and kiss him senseless.

Telling Jake’s parents goes just as smoothly. Unlike the previous conversation, Tom’s a little more nervous about it, but Jake pulls him down on the couch with him once Chesa’s done cleaning his room and leaves to do Tom’s. Tom curls up next to Jake with his chin resting on his shoulder and Jake pulls one of Tom’s legs over his own, leaving them curled up together as they talk to his parents, Jake’s phone on his lap.

Judy and Brian are thrilled about the news and gush over how happy they are for both of them. Jake glows even more than he did when Chesa had demonstrated her approval over their relationship and he rubs Tom’s leg, squeezing it hard. Nuzzling Jake’s neck, Tom can’t stop smiling as he answers Judy and Brian’s questions and agrees with them when they mention how good this will be for both of them.

The urge to kiss Jake keeps growing but Tom carefully keeps his hands to himself until they’re off the phone. As soon as Jake’s hung up and dropped his phone on the coffee table, he surprises Tom by twisting around and grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him hard.

Moaning against his lips, Tom eagerly parts his lips, licking at Jake’s and slipping into his mouth as soon as Jake parts them. Winding his arms around Jake, Tom pulls him onto his lap, slipping his hands underneath Jake’s shirt as he rubs his tongue against Jake’s, relishing every little sound that he makes as he presses up against Tom.

Tom could happily spend the rest of his day sitting here, making out with Jake, but his hands love the feel of Jake’s skin and he finds himself desperate to touch Jake’s amazing ass again. As he kisses him, he slides his hands down Jake’s back and slips into the waistband of his pants. His belt is making his pants too tight for Tom to get in very far, but he squeezes the little bit of Jake’s ass he can reach.

Jake gasps against his lips and pulls back, his eyes half-lidded and dark with arousal and his lips shiny with spit. He’s already trembling a little and Tom doesn’t have to look down to know that Jake’s getting hard. He looks amazing and Tom’s heart races, feeling so unbelievably lucky. Releasing Jake’s ass, Tom tangles his hands in Jake’s curls and kisses him hard. “I love you,” he whispers against his slick lips.

Jake’s lips curls into a smile and he kisses Tom back. “I still can’t believe you’re talking to me when you say that.”

“You better start believing it cause it’s true,” Tom mumbles in between kisses.

After he’s kissed Jake for a while again, he releases his hair and runs his hands down Jake’s shirt to his pants again. His waistband is still restricting Tom’s access, but just rubbing a finger along the top of Jake’s crack is sufficient. For now.

Jake doesn’t seem to agree. Reaching down, he opens his pants and presses himself closer to Tom as he latches back onto his lips. Taking the clear invitation, Tom slides his hands further into Jake’s pants and squeezes his now fully accessible ass as he groans and arousal coils in his stomach. Jake lets out a whimper and begins thrusting against Tom front and tries spreading his legs further apart. Seeing Jake like this makes Tom hard in no time and he uses his grip on Jake’s ass to pull him closer. As Tom licks Jake’s lips, Jake pants against him, his hands sliding off Tom’s face to grip the back of the couch. Sliding his fingers along the crack of Jake’s ass, Tom finds his hole and rubs his fingers over the puckered opening, which makes Jake let out a soft cry and shove his ass back against his fingers. Grinning, Tom rubs his fingers harder over his dry hole, gently slipping the tip of one finger into him.

“We’ve been doing a lot of fun things since last night, but it’s been a few days since this greedy hole of yours got stuffed with cock,” Tom murmurs. “That’s a travesty. I think we should fix that.”

Jake’s breath catches and he’s shamelessly thrusting back against Tom’s fingers. “Yes,” he whispers, his voice shaking. “Please.”

Kissing Jake hard, Tom slowly pulls his fingers away from his hole and out of his pants. Jake whines and pants against Tom’s lips, but Tom catches his lips in another kiss. “Shh. If you wanna get fucked, we gotta get your pants off and I gotta get lube and a condom.”

Jake makes a hilariously sad face, but allows Tom to shifts him sideways on the couch and gently drop him on his back. Standing up, Tom smiles down at him as he pulls off Jake’s shirt, then grabs his pants and underwear and pulls them off.

As soon as his pants are off, Jake lets out a happy sigh and he’s back to smiling as he spreads his legs; putting one foot on the floor and flinging his other leg over the back of the couch. He’s shaking, his eyes half-lidded as he pants up at Tom. His hard cock is lying against his stomach and he shifts his ass up, clearly eager to get fucked.

Jake putting himself into this position and being comfortable enough to do it in front of Tom sends a jolt of arousal through Tom and he has to press a hand against his throbbing cock so he doesn’t come in his pants. Sucking in a shaky breath, Tom lets his eyes run up and down Jake’s body. Jake’s smiling and he lets out a soft sigh and brings one of his hands down to rub his fingers over his hole. The burst of heat that rushes through Tom takes him by surprise and he straddles Jake, grabbing his hands and pinning them above his head, pressing them onto the couch.

Jake’s grinning as he pants up at him. “If you want your own fingers there, hurry up and get the lube.”

Bending down Tom kisses him hard before climbing off Jake and hurrying to get supplies. Realizing that Jake won’t care about his couch now but he’ll probably be unhappy later if it gets filthy, Tom grabs a towel after he finds a condom and the lube in Jake’s bedroom.

When he’s back at the couch, he stands and stares down at Jake for a while, whose eyes are closed as he’s thrusting his hips up and down, his hole twitching. His hands are still above his head, exactly where Tom had put them.

Fuck.

Taking off his clothes, Tom holds up the towel. “Get your ass off the couch for a sec.”

Tensing his legs, Jake opens his eyes and lifts his ass up enough for Tom to slide the towel underneath him. Grabbing the lube, Tom settles between Jake’s spread legs and slicks up his fingers, grinning at the eager smile on Jake’s face. He lightly brushing his fingers over Jake’s hole and Jake lets out a shaky breath and eagerly rubs against his fingers, shifting his ass to try to get him inside.

“You’re not eager at all, huh?” Tom murmurs, smiling as he keeps rubbing Jake’s rim.

Jake manages a weak chuckle, shaking with arousal.

“This hole isn’t greedy for cock at all, is it?”

That makes Jake breathe out a laugh, his eyes sparkling. “No, not at all.”

Kissing Jake’s leg that’s thrown over the back of the couch, Tom keeps watching Jake’s face as he slides two fingers into him, easily sliding into his warmth. Jake clenches around his fingers and moans, his eyes dropping shut again as he thrusts down against Tom’s fingers.

Tom’s cock is so desperate to be inside of Jake that he doesn’t spend time teasing him. Once he’s satisfied that Jake’s loose and slick enough, Tom puts on the condom and slicks himself up. Grabbing Jake’s leg with one hand, he nudges his cock against his hole; tingles rushing through him as Jake’s twitching hole rubs against the head of his cock. Gripping Jake’s leg, Tom slides into him, moaning as he slides into the familiar warmth. Jake groans and his hands slide over the couch, looking for something to grab onto.

Sinking into Jake, Tom shifts his hips gently, fucking Jake in small thrusts as he bends down and kisses Jake’s chest, latching onto one of his nipples and sucking lightly. Jake sighs and one of his hands grabs Tom’s hair, keeping him where he is.

Letting himself enjoy the heat of Jake’s ass clenching his cock and the tight nipple in his mouth, Tom drifts in the intense emotions filling him. He can’t believe he gets to have all of this. Best of all, Jake’s moaning softly and shifting his hips to meet Tom’s small thrusts, clearly enjoying himself.

Tom switches between Jake’s nipples, gently sucking and nibbling on them. Eventually, he kisses his way up to Jake’s lips and catches them in a deep kiss, licking into Jake’s mouth as he presses his forearms against the couch, framing Jake’s head. It’s slow and amazing and it’s exactly the pace Tom loves—but this is about Jake too and Tom knows what he really wants. Once he’s had his fill of kissing him, Tom slowly straightens up, staying deep inside of Jake and grins down at him. “You ready to pick up the pace?”

That makes Jake’s small smile grow into a big grin and he nods eagerly. “Yes, please.”

Grabbing Jake’s legs in firm grips, Tom keeps watching Jake’s face as he switches up the pace, fucking him hard; pounding into him deep and fast, just the way Jake likes it. Just as he’d predicted, Jake’s eyes flutter closed and his lips part as he pants, letting out shaky sounds that let Tom know he’s loving this. Jake’s gone back to grabbing the couch cushions to brace himself and he eagerly shifts his hips to meet Tom’s hard thrusts as much as he can with the tight grip Tom has on his legs.

“You look fucking gorgeous,” Tom gasps out, pounding into him hard and staring down at Jake’s cock, which is leaking all over his stomach. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you? You love getting fucked hard. Look at your cock—you’re leaking all over your stomach, making a mess. A fucking gorgeous mess, that’s what you are.”

After a while, Tom slightly changes his angle, brushing his cock over Jake’s prostate on each thrust, which makes Jake’s entire body twitch and tense, his toes curling as he lets out a shout.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? It felt just as good last night when you fucked me. You love this, don’t you? I should keep you here all day, just keep you lubed and stretched all day and fuck you whenever I want. You’d love that, wouldn’t you? I’d fuck you anywhere—the bed, the couch, the floor; it doesn’t matter.”

Jake’s shaking hard, gasping for breath and making sounds that Tom doubts he’s aware of. Tom keeps up the pace, making sure he’s sliding past Jake’s prostate on each hard thrust. When Jake’s tensing and shifting around, Tom knows he’s close and he just needs a little push to get there. Releasing one of Jake’s legs, Tom reaches down and fists his cock in hard, tight strokes. Within a few strokes, Jake tenses, clenching around his cock as his eyes squeeze shut and he’s coming, spurts of cum shooting out of his cock and covering his stomach and his chest.

The sight of Jake covered in cum and being so deep in arousal is enough to make Tom’s own orgasm creep up on him. Within a few minutes, he’s coming, fucking Jake hard as he rides out his orgasm. Tom stays where he is for a minute, shaking and tense and his entire body overrun with emotions. The orgasms he’s had over the last twenty-four hours have been as intense as when he’d been a teenager and there’s no doubt it has to do with Jake and the change in their relationship. As his heart slowly calms and he gets his breath back, he loses his grip on Jake’s legs and slowly slides out of him. Jake moans softly as Tom pulls out and puts his legs down, but Jake stays exactly where he is, shaking and gasping up at the ceiling.

“You alive down there?” Tom mumbles.

“I don’t know. Jesus Christ. That was—fuck.”

Chuckling at the profanity, Tom strips off the condom and ties it off, dropping it next to the bottle of lube on the floor. Tom should get them both water and get them cleaned up…but as he stares down at Jake lying on the couch, his legs still sprawled open and his eyes closed, Tom finds himself climbing back on the couch and settling between Jake’s legs. He reaches down for Jake’s abandoned shirt and wipes them clean before collapsing on Jake’s sweaty, warm chest and making himself comfortable.

Jake’s arms wrap around him and cling to him as he nuzzles the top of Tom’s head. “We should both retire from our jobs and just have sex with each other for the rest of our lives.”

Tom chuckles, his eyes dropping shut. “Sounds good. But I’m gonna run out of money within a few months.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jake mumbles. “I got access to my trust fund when I turned 25. That’s $18 million right there and that’ll be alright for a while. And if my parents ever die, you can add $2 billion to it. So we’ll be okay.”

Tom’s eyes fly open. He’d always known that Jake was filthy rich, but holy shit. Raising his head, he stares at Jake, who stares back at him, frowning. “What? The numbers are accurate.”

Chuckling, Tom kisses Jake’s chest and makes himself comfortable again. “I believe you, but that’s not why I was staring. But anyway, you know that wouldn’t work for me. I like working for my money. Anyway, we’d both get bored of being retired within a week and you know it. I don’t think we’ll ever get tired of fucking, but variety is good for the soul.”

Jake sighs dramatically and rubs Tom’s back. “Sadly, I have to agree with you. We’ll just have to settle for having sex every few hours instead of all the time.”

Smiling, Tom rubs his face against Jake’s chest. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“It also makes dicks harder and greedy holes greedier, but not all of our body parts can get what they want all the time. That’s just unhealthy.”

That makes Tom burst out laughing as Jake chuckles underneath him. “Have I mentioned I love you, Jake Seever?”

“You have, but feel free to mention it anytime you want.”

“Okay, then. I love you.”

Jake’s fingers are tilting Tom’s chin up until he’s looking up at a smirking Jake. “What a coincidence.”

“Huh?”

His eyes are sparkling. “I love you too.”

As a warm glow spreads through his chest, Tom pushes himself up and crawls up Jake so he can lean down and kiss him.

* * *

The day his parents are due to come home, Jake spends his morning finishing his dad’s birthday cake and chatting with his parents on the phone. Tom’s sitting at the kitchen island with him, talking to his parents and helpfully taste-testing the decorations and icing that Jake’s using.

With his piping bag in one hand, Jake slowly pipes a line of gold-colored frosting along the base of the cake, turning the revolving stand that the large cake is sitting on as he goes.

His dad’s voice carries through the phone that’s sitting next to Tom. “I still can’t believe it has twelve flavors in it, Jake!”

Smiling, Jake doesn’t take his eyes off the line he’s frosting, making sure it stays completely even as he pipes. “It took some time and the cake is enormous, but there are twelve flavors in there.”

“I can vouch for that because I helped eat the cake pieces that were left,” Tom pipes up, grinning.

His mom and dad both laugh. “I’m sure that was a hardship, Tom!” His mom calls out.

“Oh, definitely. The sacrifices I make for Jake are unbelievable.”

Having reached the start of his line, Jake carefully pulls away the bag and uses his finger to blend the two ends together until they’re seamless. The cake is coming along nicely. He’d had his doubts that he could make it really look like his dad’s watch, but those doubts have now faded. The cake looks like an enormous replica of his dad’s watch. Without looking at Tom, Jake smiles and squeezes the piping bag, smearing some on Tom’s hand. “Oops. Sorry.”

Tom chuckles and eagerly licks the icing off the back of his hand. “I forgive you.”

Putting down the piping bag, Jake grabs his ruler and bends over the cake, getting ready to re-measure the distances between the chocolate hour and minute indicators again to make sure they’re all the exact same distance from the edge of the cake.

Tom rolls his eyes, looking amused. “Seriously?”

Jake raises an eyebrow, not understanding what’s so amusing. “Yes, seriously. It has to be perfect.”

“He’s got his ruler out,” Tom calls into the phone, laughing.

“Oh, honey, you don’t have to do that,” his mother says while his dad adds: “Don’t make any extra fuss, Jake. Its already perfect.”

Jake rolls his eyes. “It may look perfect now, but we can’t just rely on our vision. The ruler is the best way to ensure it’s truly perfect.”

His parents keep telling him that he doesn’t need to do any measuring while Tom snort and continues looking amused, but Jake ignores them. Not measuring his dad’s birthday cake is ridiculous. But it’s annoying that everybody else doesn’t see how vital measuring things is, so he decides to change the subject. “So mom, dad, when are you landing tonight?”

“We should be at the hotel by 8 o’clock.”

“Are you going to want dinner? The chef’s table is free tonight.”

“Don’t worry about us, sweetheart,” his mom says. “We’re eating dinner before we leave and it’s just a two hour flight. We’ll go up to your room and wait for you to finish service.”

Jake grins as he verifies that the distance between the chocolate ‘2’ hour marker is exactly one inch from the edge of the cake, excited at the thought of seeing his parents in just a few hours. “Okay.”

“In the meantime, try to keep Tom from eating my birthday cake,” his dad says, chuckling.

Tom laughs. “Hey, hey, hey. I wouldn’t eat a man’s birthday cake until he’s had a slice.”

“You’ll have your fill of it tomorrow, once I’ve had time to admire it and get my first helping.”

Standing up, Tom wraps his arms around Jake and quietly kisses his neck, making Jake smile as he moves his ruler to check the ‘3’ hour marker.

“I don’t know if any of us will be able to cut into this beauty tomorrow. It really looks amazing,” Tom says.

Pressing his lips together with a proud smile, Jake picks up a piece of leftover chocolate and holds it up for Tom to grab with his teeth. “If necessary, I’ll do the honors.”

His mom laughs. “We’ll probably take you up on that offer.”

Jake shifts his ruler to the ‘4’ hour marker, which is 1 and 1/32 inches from the edge. That’s no good and he gently pushes the dark chocolate rectangle until it’s a precise 1 inch from the edge. “And no peeking into my fridge when you’re here on your own tonight.”

His dad sighs softly. “I can’t believe I have to wait until tomorrow to see it, but alright. We promise not to peek.”

“It’ll be worth the wait,” Jake reassures him.

Tom smiles against his neck. “Everything to do with you usually is,” he whispers into Jake’s ear.

Grinning, Jake clutches his ruler. He still can’t believe how lucky he is. Waiting for tomorrow will be agony, but having his parents arrive tonight will make the wait more bearable. His dad had formally invited Tom to join them at his birthday and Tom had accepted, which had thrilled Jake. Now all he has to do is get through a few more hours until his parents arrive.

* * *

“Chef Seever, Chef Huang, you’re up. Table 4, two raspberry mousse and one chocolate cake.”

“Yes, Chef,” Jake and Liying call out simultaneously.

Heading to the cooler with a small tray, he takes out two raspberry mousse cakes and carries them over to the plating station. As he’s transferring the cakes onto two small plates, he catches sight of Cecilia walking into the kitchen and making her way up to Chef Mitra. It’s very unusual for a front desk agent to be anywhere near the kitchen, never mind walking through it in the middle of service.

“What’s Cecilia doing here?” Liying asks, bent over her chocolate cake next to him.

Grabbing a piping bag of pink raspberry flavored whipped cream and his ruler, Jake carefully finds the center of the first cake and squeezes a 1/2 inch star-shaped dollop of cream in the center. “No idea.”

He’s busy measuring the diameter of the cream and the distance between the edge of the pink whipped cream and the white chocolate mousse beneath, so he doesn’t have time to keep an eye on Cecilia and figure out what she’s saying to Chef Mitra.

As he’s finishing his measuring, Chef Mitra calls his name. “Chef Seever?”

Using his tweezers to pick up one of the perfect fresh raspberries, he carefully puts it into the center of the whipped cream. “Yes, Chef?”

“Can I see you in the pantry for a moment?”

Frowning, Jake lowers his tweezers and stares at her, confused. That’s the second unusual thing to have occurred today. “Of course, Chef. Chef Huang, can you take these over?”

“Of course. Go, go.”

Putting down his tweezers, Jake follows Chef Mitra into the pantry.

“Please shut the door,” she says.

Sliding the door shut behind him, Jake wonders why so many strange things are happening today. “Is something wrong, Chef?”

She’s staring at him with wide eyes and he can’t read her expression at all. “Jake…this is difficult to say, but I feel it’s my responsibility to tell you.”

Jake can’t remember Chef Mitra ever calling him by his first name, especially during service. This must be something serious. “Is there a problem with service?”

“No. This has nothing to do with the kitchen.”

He has no idea what this could be about. If there’s a problem with the hotel, he’s not the person she needs to talk to about that. The managers would be first in line, followed by the CEO and if it’s serious enough, then his parents might need to be involved, but not Jake.

But as he stares at her, waiting, he notices her jaw is clenched and her eyes are bright with unshed tears. Maybe she has a medical problem that she needs to go take care of? But again, Jake wouldn’t be the first in line to help with that. As the next in line, it would be Sous Chef Nelson who would step in for her.

“Jake…there’s been an accident.”

“Okay…”

She presses her lips together and she looks more and more upset the longer she stares at him. “The plane your parents were taking crashed.”

Jake blinks and his breath catches. “Is everybody on board alright?”

Due to the amount of time his parents spend on planes, they’ve had their share of minor accidents and maintenance issues. It always leaves them a bit shaken up, but they’re usually ready to resume their schedules within a few days. It’s similar to Jake accidentally cutting himself or burning his hand in the kitchen.

Chef Mitra’s face crumbles and she takes a shaky breath. “Unfortunately, no. Nobody’s sure what happened, but the plane crashed shortly after take-off. There were no survivors. I’m so sorry, Jake.”


	13. Chapter 13

“Nobody’s sure what happened, but the plane crashed shortly after take-off. There were no survivors. I’m so sorry, Jake.”

His entire world stops.

He can’t breathe and his heart is slowly thudding in his chest. The sounds of the kitchen drift through the door—meat sizzling, dishes clanging, orders being called out—and Jake stares at Chef Mitra, completely numb. “My parents are arriving tonight. At 8 o’clock. It’s my dad’s birthday weekend,” Jake says. His lips are numb.

He’s waiting for Chef Mitra to nod and say ‘yes, of course’ and then they’ll go back into the kitchen and get back to service. Liying should be finished with Table 4’s desserts by now.

“Jake, I’m very sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”

Jake blinks. He’s started to breathe again, but he still can’t move. Maybe Table 4’s desserts aren’t quite ready yet and Jake can do a final inspection of the raspberry mousse desserts before they go out? Or he can jump in with the next orders. He wants to finish service as soon as possible because his parents are arriving in a few hours. They’ll be here by 8 o’clock and they’ll be waiting in Jake’s room when he’s done service. And tomorrow, they’ll celebrate his dad’s birthday and eat the enormous watch cake and give his dad his repaired watch. He’ll be so happy. “Can I go back to service?”

Chef Mitra frowns at him. “If you want to, then yes, certainly. But I think it would be best if you spent time with the rest of your family and your friends right now.”

He’ll see his family in a few hours. His mom and dad are landing soon and he’ll see them after service. They’ll be waiting in his room and tomorrow, they’ll celebrate his dad’s birthday. “I’d like to finish service, Chef.”

“Alright. But if you need to leave, you can do that anytime.”

That’s ridiculous. Jake has never left a service early and he won’t be doing it tonight. His parents don’t mind waiting until he’s done in the kitchen. “Thank you, Chef, but that won’t be necessary.”

Turning around, Jake opens the pantry door and steps back into the loud, chaotic world of the kitchen. He heads right for his plating station and scans the plates in front of Liying.

She glances up and frowns at him. “What was that about?”

Glancing at the dishes in front of her, he notices she has a plate of raspberry mousse and she hasn’t started decorating it yet. Pulling it towards himself, Jake grabs the whipped cream and pulls his ruler out of his jacket pocket. “There was a plane crash.”

His lips are still numb and he can’t feel the bag in his hands.

“What?!”

Squeezing the bag is hard when he can’t feel it, but his ruler helps him and he stops when he has a ½ inch wide dollop in the center of the cake. He can’t feel the ruler, but the trusty little lines on it tell him that the cream is not in the center of the cake. Damn it.

Grabbing a metal spatula, Jake carefully scrapes off the cream. He’s moving very slowly and the spatula drops from his numb hand to clatter onto the counter, but he can still do this. It’s hard to blink because his eyelids are moving very slowly, but he manages to measure the diameters of the cake. 3 inches one way, 3 inches the other way. The center is at 1 and 1/2 inches. Time to try this again.

Keeping his eyes on the center, Jake fumbles to grab the whipped cream bag—but Liying pulls it out of his reach. “Jake! What do you mean there was a plane crash? Where? Who was on the plane?”

Jake frowns—it’s difficult because his face is numb—and tries reaching for the bag. He’ll lose his spot on the cake if she doesn’t hand it over and he’ll have to start all over again. But she’s being stubborn and raising her eyebrows at him, demanding he answer her questions. Great. He can’t even remember what her questions were. “What were you asking me?”

It’s hard to talk. His tongue feels too large and his lips are still numb.

“What plane crash? Who was on the plane? Anybody we know?”

Well, of course. “It’s my parents’ plane. They were on the plane.” Obviously. Well, no, that’s not quite accurate. “Their pilot was there too. And their personal assistant.”

Apparently, those answers are insufficient because she’s still not giving him the bag back. Instead, her eyes widen and she looks stunned. “Are they okay? What happened?!”

Of course they’re okay. “They’ll be landing at 8 o’clock. They’re going to wait in my room until I’m done service. It’s my dad’s birthday weekend.”

She frowns at him. “If there was a plane crash, then how the hell is the plane landing?! Are you sure you heard Chef Mitra correctly?”

Jake blinks at her. This conversation is exhausting. “Can I have the piping bag, please? We have to get these plates out.”

Liying abruptly shoves the piping bag back at him and heads towards Chef Mitra. That’s none of Jake’s concern. His only concern is re-measuring the cake so he can identify the 1 1/2 inch spot that’s the center of the cake. He feels very tired and his eyes keep drifting off the cake to stare at the counter. That should make him angry, but weirdly enough, he doesn’t feel angry. Not even annoyed. The dessert won’t get finished if he’s staring at the counter, but he can’t seem to get himself moving. It’s very frustrating. But again—he doesn’t actually feel frustrated. Which is strange. In fact, he feels absolutely nothing. He has no idea how much time goes by as he stands there, staring at the counter. Sometimes he forgets to breathe and he’ll have to force himself to take a breath.

Suddenly, Liying re-appears next to him. “Jake, I’m so sorry.”

He stares at her and blinks slowly.

She tries pulling the bag out of his numb hands. “I’ll finish service. You don’t need to stay here.”

Except he does. “My parents are landing at 8 o’clock. They’ll wait in my room until I’m done service. It’s my dad’s birthday weekend.”

“You’re in shock and you shouldn’t be in the kitchen when you’re in shock. You might hurt yourself and you really don’t have to be here. We’ll be fine, I promise.”

“But we need to finish service. My parents are landing at 8 o’clock and I need to be done service as soon as possible. It’s my dad’s birthday weekend.”

She’s managed to pull the bag out of his hands because he can’t grip it tightly enough to put up a fight. Her eyes are filled with sadness and she looks like she’s about to cry. “Jake, please. You’re going to hurt yourself if you stay here.”

That’s ridiculous. Jake might be moving slowly, but he can still do this. But…that’s a lie. He has no idea how much time he’s wasted already, just standing there, staring at the counter. He still hasn’t managed to get the whipped cream on the cake, even though he’d come out of the pantry ages ago. He doesn’t deserve to be on the line right now. His performance is completely inadequate and if he weren’t feeling numb, he’d be ashamed of himself. “I’m very sorry for my poor performance, Chef Huang.”

She draws in a shaky breath and her face twists. “Don’t apologize.”

As he’s turning away from the still undecorated plate of raspberry mousse cake, Liying grabs his sleeve. “If there’s anything you need— _anything_ —just tell me.”

That’s a very nice offer, but Jake won’t need to take her up on it. He’ll go upstairs, wait for his parents and after his dad’s birthday weekend, he’ll be back to normal. This silly numbness won’t have a chance against his parents and Tom spending time with him this weekend.

Moving one foot after another, he slowly walks out of the kitchen. His hands are too numb to take off his chef’s jacket but nobody stops to ask him questions as he goes to the elevator and rides up to his floor. He makes it into his room and immediately goes to check on his dad’s birthday cake in the fridge. Luckily, it’s still beautiful and perfect, exactly as Jake had left it that morning when he’d carefully put it into the fridge with Tom’s help. Gently closing the fridge door, Jake shuffles over to his couch and sits down. Glancing at his watch, he sees it’s just past 7 pm. Less than an hour until his parents get here.

There are tons of things he should be doing. He should get changed. He should re-measure everything on his dad’s birthday cake to make sure it’s perfect. He should plan out next week’s desserts. Unfortunately, he can’t seem to do any of that. He just sits there, staring at the closed balcony doors and the dark city below, sprinkled with lights. He can’t feel any part of his body and it’s such a struggle to breathe. It’s very curious that he feels no sense of urgency or irritation. Service is going on downstairs, his parents are arriving in less than an hour and Jake’s sitting here, doing nothing.

The minutes slowly tick by and when the time reaches 8 o’clock, Jake gets up and sits at his dining table so he’s closer to the door. Any minute now, there will be a knock on the door and his parents will be on the other side. They’ll drink wine and chat about their flight and Jake will tell them about his weird service and the silly numbness and they’ll reassure him that it’s something temporary that will have faded by tomorrow.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow Tom will come over and they’ll eat his dad’s birthday cake. His dad will unwrap his repaired watch and he’ll be so happy.

8:17.

It’s unusual for them to be late. The airport is close by and there isn’t much traffic at this time of the evening. But normally, Jake would still be in service now, so they’re probably not hurrying.

Time moves very, very slowly and Jake feels no desire to get up and do any of the sensible things he should be doing. Instead, he just sits there and glances at his watch from time to time. But mostly, he’s staring at the front door. It’s taking all of his energy to breathe, so he focuses on that.

8:43.

Their absence is getting a bit concerning now. They wouldn’t have stopped for shopping because everything’s closed by now. Even if they stopped to chat with people in the lobby, they should have come upstairs by now. But maybe they bumped into some old friends and they’re spending more time chatting with them than they normally would. That makes sense.

9:05.

9:23.

A small glimmer of fear clenches in his stomach. His parents are now an hour and a half late. Getting up, Jake slowly stumbles into his bedroom to get his phone. His hands are still numb and it takes him two tries to pick it up, but he manages to lift it up and check if he has any missed calls or messages.

Nothing.

He should call them to find out what the reason for the delay is. His fingers are moving very slowly and it takes him ages to go into his contacts and press the button for his dad’s cellphone. As he presses the phone to his ear, he’s holding his breath. His dad will pick up the phone and say ‘Hi, Jake! Aren’t you supposed to be in service? Your mom and I are walking around the city for a bit before we head to the hotel. We’ll see you soon.’

Unfortunately, the phone switches right to voice mail. That fear grows bigger and the hair on the back of his neck stands up. He clenches his jaw against the fear as he hangs up and calls his dad again.

Come on, dad. Pick up. Pick up, pick up, pick up.

When his dad’s phone immediately goes to voice mail again, he calls his mom’s phone. His mom will pick up the phone and say ‘Hi, Jake! Aren’t you supposed to be in service? Your dad and I are walking around the city for a bit before we head to the hotel. We’ll see you soon.’

Voice mail. That’s not right. She’s supposed to say ‘Hi, Jake’. He tries again.

Voice mail. Hang up. Try again.

She’s supposed to say ‘We’ll see you soon’.

Voice mail again. He calls his dad. Wandering back into the living room, he sits down at the dining room table so he can watch the door and hear it when they knock. Because his parents are supposed to arrive at 8 o’clock and they’ll come to Jake’s room. Tomorrow, they’ll celebrate his dad’s birthday and eat the giant cake that’s in the fridge and his dad will get his repaired watch. He’ll be so happy.

Voice mail. Hang up. Try again.

Jake checks his watch.

9:51.

Voice mail.

‘Hi, Jake.’

Voice mail. He calls his mom.

‘We’ll see you soon.’

10:02.

Nobody’s knocking on the door. They’re already two hours late. They were supposed to arrive at 8 o’clock and come to Jake’s room. Tomorrow, they’ll eat the cake that’s sitting in the fridge and celebrate his dad’s birthday.

‘Hi, Jake.’

‘Hi, Jake.’

‘Hi, Jake.’

Voice mail.

10:29.

That fear is growing thicker in his gut and his hands are shaking. He puts the phone on the table and calls his dad again. He’ll pick up and say ‘Hi, Jake’.

Voice mail.

Out of nowhere, Chef Mitra’s voice creeps into his thoughts. ‘Jake…there’s been an accident.’

No, no, no. Those are bad words. Those are words that he doesn’t want to hear. He wants to hear his dad pick up and say ‘Hi, Jake’.

Voice mail. Hang up. Try again.

‘Hi, Jake.’

‘We’ll see you soon.’

‘There’s been an accident.’

Voicemail. He calls his mom again.

10:57. Three hours late. They were supposed to arrive at 8 o’clock. Tomorrow, they’ll eat his dad’s birthday cake and his dad will get his watch. He’ll be so happy.

‘Hi, Jake.’

‘There’s been an accident.’

He’s clenching his jaw and his throat is tightening. That fear is slowly morphing into pain.

‘There were no survivors. I’m so sorry, Jake.’

Voice mail. Hang up. Try his dad again.

His dad’s birthday cake is waiting in the fridge. His parents were supposed to arrive at 8 o’clock. They’ll celebrate his dad’s birthday tomorrow.

But what if…what if…what if…

‘Hi, Jake.’

‘There’s been an accident.’

Voice mail. His throat is getting tighter and his hands are shaking so hard that he has difficulty re-dialing the phone. Why aren’t they picking up their phones?! Why aren’t they here?

‘There were no survivors. I’m so sorry, Jake.’

11:17.

He needs his mom and dad to be here. He needs them to knock on his door or answer the phone and say ‘Hi, Jake’ and ‘We’ll see you soon’ and then they’ll be here and they’ll drink wine together and tomorrow, they’ll eat his dad’s birthday cake and open his dad’s present. Tom will be here and they’ll have so much fun. Everybody he loves will be in one room together.

‘There’s been an accident.’

His eyes well up with tears and they begin streaming down his face. Jake’s barely aware of it. He’s too focused on the pain squeezing his throat and how badly his hands are shaking. Dropping the phone on the table, Jake sits there, tears streaming down his face as he struggles to breathe. How can this be real? He’d talked to his parents a few hours ago. How is it possible that they’ll never come home?

A small part of Jake keeps thinking that maybe they’ll show up tomorrow, or a week from now or a year from now…but that’s not reality. He’ll never see his parents again.

Never.

He’ll never talk to his mom and dad again. He’ll never get to hear his dad laugh or his mom tell him a funny story. They’ll never eat the birthday cake that’s sitting in his fridge. How can that be possible?! Jake talked to them a few hours ago and now…he’ll never get to talk to them ever again.

_He’ll never get to talk to them ever again._

The tears continue running down his face, as if his eyes are faucets that somebody’s left running. He’s never cried like this before in his entire life and he can’t stop. He’d talked to his parents a few hours ago and now he’ll never get to talk to them again. How can such a thing happen?! How can they just be gone?!

Getting up, Jake stumbles into the kitchen and pulls open the fridge. When he stares at his dad’s birthday cake, his heart aches with pain as the tears pour down his face. The gigantic, beautifully decorated watch cake is sitting there, ready for his parents to arrive. But his parents will never see this cake or eat it because they’re never coming home again. Jake will sit here for the rest of his life, just like this cake. Waiting for his parents, who will never come home. His nose is clogged and tears are dripping off his chin as he stares at the cake; the cool air of the fridge drifting out.

‘There’s been an accident.’

‘Hi, Jake.’

‘There were no survivors.’

‘We’ll see you soon.’

How could this have happened?! He’d just talked to his parents a few hours ago. How is it possible that they’re just gone? He won’t see them tomorrow or a year from now or ten years from now. They’re just gone. What is he supposed to do now? How can he live the rest of his life without his parents? How is that even possible?!

As another wave of tears rushes over him, he sinks down to the floor and shuts the fridge, pressing his face against the cool metal door. Struggling to breathe, he wraps his arms around himself while the tears continue streaming down is face.

* * *

As Tom’s watching some stupid reality TV show on TV, Sex Toy Enthusiast is lounging on the bed next to him, scrolling through his phone. They’d finished their session a while ago and Tom never minds if his clients want to spend some time relaxing in his room before heading out. Glancing at the time, Tom keeps staring at the TV. Jake won’t be done service for about 20 minutes, so Tom has plenty of time to relax.

“Holy shit,” his client mumbles.

“What?”

“Well, that’s just a little freaky.”

Frowning, Tom glances over at him. The older man is staring at his phone, his eyebrows raised.

“What’s freaky?”

“The owners of the hotel just died.”

Tom’s still a little tired from the session and his brain is focused on the TV show. “What owners? What are you talking about?”

His client slides closer to him and hands Tom his phone. “The people who own the hotel. They just died. Plane crash or something.”

Tom’s breath catches and he grabs the phone as fear tightens his throat. It can’t be. There’s no way. His client must have gotten confused. There’s no way…

_‘Billionaire Hotel Moguls Die In Plane Crash’._

It must be a coincidence. There are tons of hotels in the world. Not many are owned by billionaires, but the media always likes to sensationalize things, don’t they? Fear crawling down his back, Tom scrolls down to the article. There’s a voice screaming in his head ‘please no, please no, please no, please no’.

_‘Billionaire Brian Seever and his wife, Judy Seever were killed as their private jet crashed at 6:32 pm, shortly after take-off. Also on board were their pilot and the Seever’s personal assistant. No other details about the crash are currently known, although rainy weather and poor visibility may have been a factor.’_

“Oh, my God,” Tom whispers.

_‘Brian Seever, 51, and Judy Seever, 49, were co-founders of Seever Hotels, a luxury hotel brand which began as a single hotel and grew into a global empire, consisting of 32 properties world-wide. As of last year’s ‘World’s Billionaires Rankings’, their net worth was $2.3 billion. They are survived by their 26 year-old son, Jake Brian Seever.’_

Shock numbs him. He’d just talked to Brian and Judy a few hours ago. He thought they were already in Jake’s room, waiting for him to finish service. He was going to see Brian and Judy tomorrow at Brian’s birthday party. The thought of seeing Brian’s face when he sees Jake’s beautiful cake was something Tom has been looking forward to for weeks.

And now they’re both gone.

He can’t believe they’re not sitting in the room next door. They’re just gone. Like playing pieces that have been plucked off a board game—they were here one minute and now they’re gone. But unlike a board game, they won’t suddenly reappear when a new game starts. They’re gone and they’re never coming back.

His shock is rapidly being replaced by pain and tears well up in his eyes.

“Pretty freaky, huh? We’re sitting in their hotel and they die, just like that?”

Tom stares at Sex Toy Enthusiast. His client’s grinning at him, but when he sees the look on Tom’s face, the smile disappears off his face. “Oh, damn, I’m sorry. Did you know them?”

Did he _know_ them? “Yes,” Tom whispers.

“I’m very sorry. I wouldn’t have been so flippant if I’d have known. I apologize.”

Shaking his head, Tom hands him his phone back. “It’s okay. You didn’t know. I’m best friends with their son, so—”

Oh, shit! Jake! Eyes widening as adrenaline surges through him, Tom leaps off the bed and goes to grab his phone, dialing Jake’s number. He doesn’t care that his client’s sitting right there. When Jake picks up, all Tom hears is crying.

“Jake? Are you in your room?” Tom doesn’t bother asking stupid questions like ‘did you hear what happened?’ or ‘how are you feeling?’.

“Y-yeah,” Jake whispers, his voice shaking and thick with tears.

Tom aches with the need to run to Jake and comfort him, but he has no idea if Jake would welcome that right now. “Do you want me to come over?”

“Y-yes please,” Jake chokes out. Then the phone cuts off as Jake hangs up.

Fumbling to hang up the call, Tom stares at his client, who’s climbing off the bed and getting dressed. The reminds Tom that he’s naked too and he grabs a bath robe, not wanting to waste more time. “I’m very sorry, but I’m—”

His client waves him off. “Don’t worry about me. Go, be with your friend. He needs you. I’ll see myself out and I won’t touch anything except my own clothes, I promise.”

Under normal circumstances, Tom would never leave a client alone in his room. He always locks up the money they pay him before a session begins, but he hates the idea of somebody stealing some of his expensive equipment or damaging something. But in this case, he wouldn’t care if Sex Toy Enthusiast walks off with everything in his room. Mumbling a ‘Thank you’, Tom rushes out, barely managing to remember to grab his key card before he goes.

He stumbles the few steps to Jake’s room and knocks on the door, his heart racing as he blinks hard to keep the tears from coming. He wants to stay strong for Jake.

But when the door opens and Tom sees Jake still wearing his white chef’s jacket and his tear-streaked face with his eyes dark with pain, the reality hits Tom again. Brian and Judy are gone. They’re not sitting on Jake’s couch, drinking wine and chatting about their flight. Tomorrow, nobody’s going to eat Brian’s birthday cake that Jake had spent so many days preparing. Tom will never see Brian and Judy again. He’ll never again get to feel their welcoming kindness and see them doting on Jake.

Stepping into the room, Tom shuts the door behind him and opens his arms. He doesn’t want to pressure Jake, but if Jake wants the comfort, he can have it. His face crumbling, Jake lets out a harsh, choked sob and reaches for Tom, clinging to him and pressing his face into his shoulder.

Wrapping his arms tightly around him, Tom lets them sink down to the ground, drawing in a shaky breath as his own tears begin running down his face. Burying one hand in Jake’s curls—those beautiful brown curls that he’d gotten from Judy—Tom clutches Jake close to him.

There’s nothing he can say that’ll make this better. There aren’t any words which wouldn’t be meaningless and empty. All he can do is hold Jake and absorb a little bit of his pain while battling his own.


	14. Chapter 14

Tom has no idea how long they stay on the floor, crying and holding each other. Eventually, Jake stops crying but stays slumped in Tom’s arms, clinging to his shirt and breathing in shaky jerks.

Kissing the side of his head, Tom gently rubs his back. “Jake? You wanna lie down in bed?”

“I don’t know,” Jake mumbles.

Thinking about Jake’s well being brings up a few other thoughts. “Did you eat dinner during service?”

Tom knows Jake went down to service and he’s still wearing his jacket, so he must have been told about his parents in the middle of service. The kitchen staff usually eat right before service starts or at random times throughout service, but Tom wants to make sure Jake’s eaten something.

“No.”

“Do you want me to order you something?”

“I’m not hungry and I don’t want anybody coming in,” Jake mumbles into his shirt, his voice still jerky from crying.

“How about if I make you a smoothie?”

“I don’t care.”

Tom squeezes Jake tight and kisses his face again. “You need to eat something. You know they wouldn’t be happy if you’re not eating.”

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say because Jake dissolves into tears again and Tom’s back to holding him and gently rocking them back and forth. But Jake’s always been a rational person and once he’s managed to stop crying again, he pulls back from Tom and mumbles that he wants to go to bed and he’ll drink the smoothie, if Tom makes it.

Kissing Jake’s forehead, Tom gives him a small smile. “Okay. I’m proud of you.”

Tom manages to get Jake off the floor and helps him stumble into the bedroom, where he deposits Jake onto the bed. Now that Jake’s stopped crying, he’s just sitting there, his tear-streaked face blank and his eyes empty. It’s like the light that’s always lived inside of Jake has been snuffed out, leaving nothing but a shell.

Seeing him like that makes Tom’s heart ache and it’s also frightening, so he focuses on getting Jake undressed. His chef’s jacket is wrinkled, which Tom knows Jake wouldn’t like, so he puts all of his clothes into his laundry hamper. When he brings Jake’s pajamas over, Jake stares at them glumly. “I don’t want clothes,” he mumbles.

Tom crouches down in front of him. “Okay. You wanna sleep naked?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me wearing clothes?”

“No.”

It’s strange having Jake be this blunt when it comes to issues like this. Usually, he’d be overly concerned with making sure Tom’s okay with Jake wanting to sleep together without wearing clothes, but there seems to be no room in his head for his usual concerns. It’s no wonder, because his head is full of devastating grief.

Squeezing Jake’s knees, Tom takes one of his hands and kisses his palm. “Okay. Let’s get you into bed and I’ll go make you a smoothie.”

Jake barely seems to have the energy to help move his own limbs and Tom helps get him into bed and tuck him in. Grabbing a handful of tissues, he wipes Jake’s face and encourages him to blow his nose. Once that’s done, he kisses Jake’s forehead and hurries to the kitchen to make him a smoothie. Keeping busy helps and Tom makes Jake one of the smoothies he usually makes for himself when he needs a quick meal and won’t have time to eat for a while. When it’s done, he goes back into the bedroom and pulls off his robe.

Jake’s lying in the same position he’d left him in, staring blankly at the wall with empty eyes and Tom has to breathe hard to push back his own tears again as he sits down next to Jake. “Let’s get you sitting up so you can drink your smoothie.”

Tom helps him sit up and leans Jake against his chest as he sticks the straw into his mouth and encourages him to sip the drink. Jake lies slumped against him, drinking and swallowing while staring at nothing, his face pale and covered in that same pain that’s making Tom clench his jaw and blink back his own tears. Kissing Jake’s head from time to time, he whispers quiet encouragements as Jake slowly makes his way through the smoothie. Tom doubts he’s even aware of what’s in the smoothie.

When Jake’s finished, Tom puts the empty glass on the bedside table and goes to turn off the light. When he’s back in bed, he gently maneuvers Jake into his arms and pulls the blanket up over them. Jake’s quiet but he presses his hands against Tom’s chest and hopefully that’s giving him some comfort.

As Tom wraps his arms around him and kisses his head, he desperately wants to say something that’ll make Jake feel better, but he dismissed every option before he lets it out. Saying ‘everything will be okay’ would be inappropriate and a lie. Telling Jake that he’ll be okay because Tom’s going to help him through this might anger Jake. His parents were a huge part of his life and saying anything that would make it seem as if they can easily be replaced would be an insult to them and to Jake.

It takes hours until Jake finally drifts off to sleep and Tom allows himself to join him. They’ll both need their rest because tomorrow’s going to be another very difficult day.

* * *

The ringing of a phone wakes Tom up. Jake’s shifted off of him during the night and he scrambles out of bed, running out of the bedroom, presumably rushing off to answer the phone.

Blinking, Tom yawns and he waits for Jake to come back to bed. When Jake hasn’t returned within a few minutes and Tom hasn’t heard him talking on the phone, Tom gets up and wanders out to find him.

He sees Jake standing by the table, his phone pressed to his ear. His jaw is clenched and he’s shaking as he lowers the phone and presses a few buttons before bringing it up to his ear again. He doesn’t say anything, but after a few seconds, Jake hangs up again, presses more buttons and holds it against his ear.

This pattern repeats a few more times and Tom frowns, slowly wandering closer and wondering who Jake is trying to call. When he’s close enough, he can hear a voice drifting out of the phone. It’s Brian’s voice. For a moment, Tom’s heart leaps into his throat and excitement rushes through him. The report was a mistake! They mixed up the identification of the plane! Judy and Brian are okay!

But as he listens, he realizes it’s only Brian’s voice mail message.

His face blank, Jake hangs up and presses another button. This time, Tom hears Judy’s voice…but it’s also her voice mail message. That’s when Tom’s excitement turns back into sadness and he realizes what Jake’s doing. His heart aches with pain and his throat tightens. “Jake…”

Jake ignores him and keeps calling, alternating between trying his mom and dad’s cellphones. Every time he gets the voice mail, he hangs up and calls again. As the minutes go by, Jake’s hands shake harder and his face twists, clenching his jaw hard. When it’s clear that Jake won’t stop on his own, Tom steps forward and gently squeezes the hand that’s not holding the phone. “Jake…”

Hanging up again, Jake slowly lowers the phone, staring at it. Tears begin streaming down his face and Jake’s breathing in sharp jerks. “I thought…I thought it was a bad dream. I was so sure that I’d call them today and they’d pick up and say ‘Hi, Jake’ and tell me they got delayed and they’re so sorry and they’ll be here soon.” His voice breaks as his hand clutches the phone. “Then we’ll give my dad his watch and he’ll see his cake and all four of us, we’ll have a wonderful day together,” he whispers, his voice choked.

Tom’s heart aches, both from his pain and Jake’s. He still can’t believe that he’d spoken to Brian and Judy just twenty-four hours ago. They were alive, talking and laughing…and now they’re gone.

Jake draws in a shaky breath, tears still running down his face. He stares at Tom, his eyes filled with pain. “I want them to be here. I _need_ them to here. I don’t…I want them to be here.”

Once again, Tom has no idea what to say. He opens his arms and Jake slumps against him, dissolving into sobs as he clutches Tom, his phone digging into Tom’s back.

Tom holds him tight, letting his own tears run again. “I’m so sorry, Jake. I’m so sorry.”

“How can they just be gone? I need them to here. I want to celebrate my dad’s birthday and I want to hear my mom laugh and I want to hear funny stories about what they’ve been doing. What…how can they just be gone? They were supposed to get here last night. At 8 o’clock. And now they’re not here.”

They cling to each other, crying and drowning in pain. Eventually, Jake’s phone rings behind Tom’s back and Jake’s breath catches as he straightens up and yanks his phone close to look at the caller ID. But like they both knew it would, neither of his parents’ numbers are on the display and Jake lets out a sob as he hangs up on the call and lets Tom pull him back into his arms.

It takes ages until Jake manages to stop crying and turns back into the quiet, empty pit of sadness that he’d been most of last night. His phone rings three more times but each time, Jake checks it with less urgency and has less of a reaction when he sees it’s not the numbers he wants to see and hangs up on them without answering.

Tom manages to convince Jake to go into the bedroom and helps him get dressed and guides him to sit on the couch. Along the way, Jake’s phone accompanies them and keeps ringing, only for Jake to hang up on the call each time without answering. When Tom’s put Jake on the couch, he decides they should both have something to eat, despite neither of them wanting food. “Do you want me to make you something or order room service?”

“I don’t care,” Jake mumbles, slumped against the couch and staring into nothing.

“You gotta eat. How about a bowl of oatmeal?”

Jake shrugs.

Tom wanders into the kitchen and makes them bowls of oatmeal, finding the ingredients in Jake’s well-stocked fridge and pantry. Jake is as unenthusiastic about eating as he was last night, but with Tom’s urging, he slowly shovels spoonful after spoonful into his mouth and chews listlessly.

It’s the first time Tom’s ever cooked something for Jake and it’s a sign of how badly Jake’s hurting that he hasn’t made any comments about the temperature of the oatmeal or the fact that Tom hadn’t sliced the strawberries into equally sized slices or the handful of differently sized blueberries on top.

While they’re eating, there’s a quiet knock on the door. Tom frowns over at it, wondering who would be disturbing Jake right now. The need to ward off anybody who will cause Jake unnecessary stress and pain flares up in his gut and Tom pushes himself off the couch. “I’ll go see who it is.”

When he gets to the door, he doesn’t open it. “Who is it?”

“Is Chesa. Tom, is that you?”

Opening the door, Tom’s greeted by the sight of a sad Chesa on the other side, her eyes puffy from crying. “I come to say I so sorry. Mister Brian and Miss Judy so good people.”

Tom manages a shaky smile and opens the door wider. “Yes, they were. Come in.”

“I understand Jake no want company now.”

“Let me go ask him if he wants to see you, Chesa. Hang on.”

Leaving Chesa in the front hallway, Tom goes back to the couch. “Jake? Chesa’s here to pay her condolences. Do you wanna see her? It’s okay if you don’t.”

Jake’s staring at the dark television, the bowl of oatmeal barely touched. “Please show her in. I can’t be rude.”

Tom thinks that Jake has every right to be selfish and rude at a time like this, but he goes to get Chesa, who follows him to the couch and kneels down in front of Jake. “Jake? Very sorry. Very, very sorry. No believe—” Then she mumbles a string of words in a language that Tom doesn’t understand.

Jake’s manages to tear his eyes off the television and he looks at Chesa. “Thank you for coming to see me. It means a lot to me.”

Despite how flat his tone is, Tom can tell Jake truly means it.

Chesa gives him a sad smile and reaches out to grasp her hands in hers, squeezing them. “You need help, you tell me. Okay? I do anything.”

That brings forth the first smile Tom’s seen from Jake since yesterday morning. “Thank you.”

Pressing her lips together, Chesa nods and slowly releases Jake’s hands before standing up. “You want me clean today or no?”

“I’d like privacy, please. But mark my room off on your list. I want you to get paid for it.”

“Oh, no, no, no—”

Jake looks up at her and he looks a bit more alert. “I insist. If you don’t add it on, I’ll call Mark and have him add it on for you. If you’d like to spare me that trouble, then you’ll add my room on yourself.”

Chesa takes a deep breath and tears well up in her eyes. “You good man, Jake. Like Mister Brian. Good man.”

Tom watches Jake’s jaw clench and he can see Jake’s very close to tears again. “Thank you.”

Probably sensing that Jake’s close to succumbing to another bout of tears, Chesa tells them both she’ll see herself out and she’ll go clean Tom’s room, but they should let her know if she needs anything.

Tom walks her to the door and gives her a hug. “You coming here meant a lot to him. You know that, right?”

She draws in a shaky breath against his shoulder. “I not sure but I hope.”

“I’m sure.”

After seeing Chesa out, Tom returns to the couch. That little spark of energy that Chesa’s presence had ignited in him seems to have gone out again and Jake’s just sitting there, his eyes empty and his face blank. Sitting down next to him, Tom picks up his bowl of oatmeal and glances at Jake’s barely touched bowl. Sliding closer to him, Tom kisses his cheek and wraps his arm around his shoulder, rubbing Jake’s arm. “Please eat your oatmeal. Try doing small bites.”

Jake leans against him and he resumes eating, picking up small spoonfuls and putting them into his mouth and chewing without appearing to care about what he’s eating. But at least he’s eating.

When Tom’s satisfied that Jake’s eating on his own, he reaches out for his own bowl and settles in next to him, eating quietly.

When Tom’s finished eating, Jake’s phone starts the incessant ringing again and refuses to stop. It rings five more times but Jake doesn’t even bother checking who it is. The phone just rings and rings and rings until it stops, only to start again a few minutes later. Ordinarily, Tom wouldn’t comment about Jake’s personal phone habits, but this is unusual. Fiddling with the spoon that’s in his empty bowl, Tom thinks that Jake may know who’s calling him and wanting to avoid them? “Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“Who keeps calling you?”

Jake shoves another spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth, chewing listlessly as he stares at the dark television. “I don’t know.”

That’s…not good. Tom keeps a closer eye on Jake’s phone on the coffee table while Jake keeps eating and all of the names that pop up are strangers to Tom, but a lot of them keep calling over and over again. The only one that Tom can identify is when ‘Family Home’ comes up.

Tom realizes that people in the Seevers’ lives must have heard about what happened and they’re calling Jake to offer their condolences. While that’s heart warming, Tom doesn’t think that would help Jake right now. On the other hand, the incessant ringing of the phone is getting on Tom’s nerves and he also doesn’t want these people thinking poorly of Jake. Tom thinks it’s incredibly selfish for people to be demanding Jake’s time right now, but he doesn’t like the thought that they’re grumbling to themselves about Jake ignoring them. “Jake?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want me to answer the phone? I can take messages. Maybe that’ll make them stop calling.”

Jake shrugs. “I don’t care,” he whispers glumly.

Eager to do something that might help, Tom grabs Jake’s phone and the pad of paper and pencil that always sit on the table. When the next call comes, Tom answers. “Hello, Jake Seever’s phone. How can I help you?”

“Oh. Who’s this?” It’s a woman and she sounds taken aback by Tom having answered the call.

“I’m Tom, Jake’s personal assistant. Who am I speaking with?”

“Jake doesn’t have a personal assistant.”

Tom smiles wryly. Whoever this woman is, she seems to know Jake personally. “He does today. He’s in no shape to be dealing with phone calls so I’m helping him out. If you’d like to leave him a message, I’ll be sure to pass it on.”

“Alright. Please tell him this is Chanise Thomas. I’m on the hotel’s board and we’re putting together a press release about Judy and Brian’s passing. I want to get Jake’s input before we send it out.”

That pisses Tom off. “Jake’s in the middle of grieving and you think he gives a shit about a damn press release?!”

Before she has a chance to respond, Jake’s quiet voice interrupts. “Tom, who is it?”

Pulling the phone away from his ear so he doesn’t have to listen to her response, Tom glances at Jake. “Chanise Thomas. She’s—”

“She’s on the board. They’re prepping the press release, aren’t they?” Jake mumbles quietly, the empty bowl sitting in his lap.

“Yeah. Should I tell her to go to hell?”

Jake takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a few seconds. When he opens them again, he looks more alert than he has in hours. “No. Please ask her to send the press release. I want to look it over before it goes out. It would be wonderful if you could help me do that.”

Feeling torn between the desire to be helpful and the desire to protect Jake from anything that doesn’t provide comfort, Tom chews on his lip.

Jake glances at him, his eyes sad and tired but a little hint of that steel is back in there. “If you can’t help, that’s fine. I’ll talk to Chanise.”

When Jake holds out his hand, Tom’s mind is made up. “No, I’ll handle it.” Pressing the phone back to his ear, Tom puts a smile on his face. “I apologize about that, Chanise. As I’m sure you understand, everybody’s emotions are running high today.”

“Of course.”

“Can you send the press release to Jake’s email? I’ll go over it with him and I’ll respond as soon as possible.”

She’s agreeable to that and they hang up. The phone will ring again soon, but before Tom focuses on that, he wants to fully understand where Jake’s mind is at right now. Twisting on the couch, he gives Jake a long look. “You don’t have to deal with this paperwork bullshit right now. I think Chanise is an asshole for expecting you to deal with it and nobody can force you to do it.”

Jake’s back to staring at the television, but he leans forward and puts the bowl on the coffee table, which is the first voluntary movement he’s made without Tom’s help in hours. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“My parents have a lot of money but with that money comes responsibility. They were responsible for thousands of people’s jobs and well being, both directly and indirectly. They built this enormous machine and they found reliable, hardworking people to help them operate it and make my parents very rich. In exchange, my parents promised to take care of them. Now that they’re gone, part of that responsibility comes to me.”

Tom frowns. “You have nothing to do with the hotel. You’ve never wanted anything to do with the hotel.”

“I still don’t. That’s the point. Since my parents are gone, I’m next in line. Whether I like it or not, being my parents’ sole heir means a lot of things are now automatically things I need to deal with. It’s my responsibility to make sure things will continue the way they would want and the way I would want. That includes making sure the right people are doing the right things so I don’t have to stay involved. This machine needs to keep running smoothly. Even though my parents aren’t part of the machine anymore, those thousands of people still are and I owe it to them and my parents to help with the transition.”

“I still don’t understand why you need to be involved. Your parents had an army of people working for them. Surely, they can take care of any urgent issues.”

“Yes, they will. But there are some things I need to be involved in and other things I want to be involved in. I want to read that press release and make sure my parents would be happy with it. I have to make sure my parents’ personal staff will be taken care of the way they wanted. I need to meet with the hundreds of people who are going to want to pay their respects to me—not because they gave a damn about my parents, but because they’re being sycophants. If I don’t, that might jeopardize future contracts and projects and that would put people’s jobs in jeopardy.”

Jake clenches his jaw, staring at Tom. “This is part of what being a Seever means. I won’t have to take on these responsibilities in the long term but I need to make sure the transition goes smoothly. Transitions like this make organizations very vulnerable and I could never live with the guilt if things go wrong and people lose their jobs because I couldn’t push aside my grief long enough to deal with these issues.”

Tom still can’t believe this. “Your parents died less than twenty-four hours ago.”

“It doesn’t matter. The machine is still moving full steam ahead and I have to keep it on track. That’s what my parents would expect of me.”

Well, that settles it. It’s still a strange mindset that Tom can’t quite wrap his head around, but if this is Jake’s reality, then it’s Jake’s reality. “Alright. What do you need me to do?”

Jake smiles softly. “You’ve already helped me so much. You don’t have to do anything else.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. So tell me what you need me to do.”

Blinking, Jake stares at him, his eyes sparking with an emotion that Tom hadn’t seen since their worlds had been turned upside down last night. “Really?”

“Really. So? Where do we start?”

Jake takes a deep breath. “I have to get to my parents’ house. I need to be there to support the staff and talk to them about what will happen in the future. I don’t want that information coming from the lawyers. Then people will start coming in droves and I need to be there for that. I’ll also have to make decisions for the funeral soon. I imagine it’ll take place in about a week, so there will be time to get things sorted out.”

“You should also call Chef Mitra and let her know that you’re talking a week off.”

Jake blinks. “Oh. I…completely forgot about my job. Jesus. That’s never happened to me before.”

“You know that’s understandable, given the circumstances. Do you want me to call her?”

“No, I want to do it. I’ll call her on my way to my parents’. She already told me I can take time off and I believe my benefits allow me to take a few weeks of bereavement leave. I’ve never taken a close look at my benefit details, but I’m sure that’s in there somewhere.”

Tom nods. “Okay. Let me pack a bag and I’ll help you get packed up. You want me to drive us or do you want me to call a car?”

Blinking at him, Jake frowns. “You don’t…Tom, you don’t have to come with me. It’s enough if I can call you on the phone from time to time.”

“Don’t be dumb. I wanna go with you, but I’ll only come if you want me to.”

“I could be stuck at my parents’ for more than a week.”

“If I run out of underwear, I’ll just borrow some of yours or use one of the five laundry rooms in your house.” The part about the laundry rooms isn’t true, but Tom wasn’t lying about the rest.

Jake stares at him for another long moment until he abruptly climbs into Tom’s lap and kisses him, wrapping his arms around his neck.

Running his hands up and down Jake’s sides, Tom returns his kisses, keeping them chaste and soft.

“Tom?” Jake whispers.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Tom kisses him. “I love you too.”

Resting his forehead against Tom’s, Jake clings to him. “This is awful, but it would be so much worse if I didn’t have you.”

Sliding his hands around Jake’s back, Tom pulls him close and kisses his cheek. He’d be happy to stay there like that for the rest of the day, but then Jake’s phone starts to ring again and it’s time to get to work.

When Tom goes back to his room to pack, he quickly calls the clients he has scheduled for this week and promises them all discounts if they’ll agree to miss sessions this week. After explaining the situation, most of his clients are understanding and insist on paying full price when Tom resumes their sessions next week but a few of them agree to take the discount due to the inconvenience, which is fair.

Tom also contacts a friend who he was going to see for a coffee date this week and re-schedules with him and he gives his parents a quick call and tells them he’ll be too busy to chat much this week. His parents know about his relationship with Jake—they don’t know how it had originated and they never will—and they hadn’t heard the news about Judy and Brian so they’re shocked and understanding of Tom’s desire to be there for Jake.

When Tom gets back to Jake’s room with his bag, he carefully doesn’t mention any of his phone calls. Since Jake had completely forgotten about his own job, he probably forgot about Tom’s clients too and Tom doesn’t want Jake to feel conflicted over Tom’s decision to cancel all of his sessions this week. As for talking to his parents—that would be rubbing salt in a wound right now and Tom would never be that cruel. Instead, he tells Jake that he’s ready to go and helps Jake finish packing up some clothes and other things he’ll need.

* * *

Being at Brian and Judy’s home when they’re not there is a strange experience. Whenever they were in town for longer stretches, Jake would often spend his mornings and weekends there and they’d invited Tom to eat dinner with them on the weekends a few times.

Jake dissolves into tears as soon as they’d climbed out of the car Tom’s hired and he’s staring at the enormous house in front of him. Swallowing down his own tears, Tom pulls Jake into his arms and lets him cry against his shoulder.

“I want them to come home,” Jake sobs quietly.

“I know you do. I’m so fucking sorry,” Tom whispers into his hair.

Going into the house for the first time makes things a hundred times worse because the half-dozen members of the Seever household staff are all sitting in one of the two large living rooms, either crying or looking numb with shock. They all get to their feet and come towards Jake when they see him and Tom stands next to him as Jake wordlessly reaches out and hugs each of them, crying. Tom knows it’s the first time Jake’s hugged any of them, but everybody’s too overwhelmed with grief to remark on it. None of them seem surprised about Tom’s presence and Tom’s glad he’s met most of them before so things don’t get awkward.

After Jake’s greeted everybody, he asks everybody to sit down so they can talk about what will happen over the next week. Clenching his jaw, Jake pauses for a long moment, staring at the carpet and probably summoning the courage for the difficult conversation he’s about to have. “We’ll have to prepare the house for selling. Not right away, but there’s no point in me keeping the house. I’ll hire people to take care of all that, but I want you all to be prepared.”

On the bright side, now that Jake’s focused on an important task that concerns other people’s well being, he seems more in control of himself. On the other hand, this isn’t a cheerful topic. Tom knows a handful of staff members live in the house but even those who don’t will have to face losing their jobs once the house is sold. None of them seem shocked by this news and they nod glumly.

Jake takes a deep breath. “But I want you to know that each and every one of you will be taken care of. My parents’ wills stipulate that happening anyway, but even if they didn’t, I’d see to it personally. Each of you will get a lump sum payment, based on your job responsibilities and your seniority. It’ll range from $180,000 to $350,000.”

Everybody’s eyebrows fly up, including Tom’s. Well, except for Jake’s.

A chorus of protests rise up, but Jake holds up his hand. “Please, don’t argue. This is what my parents and I want. Some of you have served my family since before I was born and we want you all to be well looked after.”

Jake’s voice grows stronger the longer he talks and he’s almost back to sounding like himself. “It’ll take a few months to get through the normal mountain of bureaucracy that’ll be associated with my parents’ wills and to liquidate the necessary assets to provide that cash, but you’ll all receive your severances. In the meantime, my parents’ estate will continue paying your salaries. If we encounter any legal issues that will delay the payments, I’ll pay your wages and the severances out of my trust fund. I can start paying the wages immediately but the severances will have to wait a few weeks to free up the cash. Either way, none of you have to worry about your finances. Does anybody have any questions?”

After answering people’s questions, the conversation shifts to what will happen today and over the course of the week.

“Ola, have people already started coming today?” Jake asks.

“Yes, two. Raphael tell them to come back later.”

“Okay, good. Is the house ready to receive visitors or do you need a few hours?”

Ola glances around and everybody’s nodding. “We ready but only if you ready.”

Jake gives her a sad smile. “I’ll be alright, I promise. Tom, you’ll help me?”

Tom nods firmly. “Of course. You tell me what you need me to do and I’ll do it.”

They go over a plan of what to expect over the next few hours and Tom’s main job will be to step in if Jake’s emotions overwhelm him while he’s talking to people. Tom will have to thank the mourners for coming and direct them to the food and refreshments that the staff will have laid out and keep the line of people moving so they can get it over with as quickly as possible without offending anybody.

The rest of the day is filled with sadness and stress. Jake can hold it together as long as he’s not faced with any direct reminders of his parents or anybody crying. Sticking to the areas of the house where his parents hadn’t spent a lot of time is easy because the house is enormous, but avoiding crying people is impossible. As soon as the first crying visitor is shown into the living room by one of the staff members and the elderly woman rushes up to Jake and grips his hands, tears pouring down her face, Jake’s tears start too and he can’t seem to get any words out.

Tom steps in and hands the woman fresh tissues, lets her sob and ramble about Judy and Brian for a few minutes while Jake stands there and cries before Tom’s thanking her and gently bringing her over to an armchair and asking her if she’d like something to eat or drink. Then he’s heading back to Jake’s side, handing him tissues, rubbing his back and telling him he’s doing great and it’ll be over soon. Sometimes Jake manages to calm down before the next visitor arrives, sometimes he doesn’t and Tom gets the visitor away from Jake as soon as possible without causing a scene.

Tom spends the next few hours keeping the line of people moving while Jake stays locked in his silent grief, tears continuously streaming down his face and only managing to nod numbly when people ask him any questions. Tom makes sure Jake’s drinking enough water, eating snacks from time to time and always has clean tissues on him. Most importantly, Tom always reminds Jake how brave he’s being and how proud his parents would be of him.

The line of visitors eventually ends and Tom brings Jake to the kitchen where everybody’s gathered to quietly eat lunch and gather their strength for the rest of the day. Jake spends lunch sitting at Tom’s side, staring at his plate without appearing to care what’s on it and only putting things into his mouth when Tom directly prompts him. His eyes are red and puffy and he hasn’t stopped crying in hours. The tears just keep running down his face as if Jake has no control over them.

After lunch, things get a bit easier again as Jake reads over and approves the press release that the board of directors had sent and he meets with members of his parents’ team who will be organizing the funeral. Focusing on the cold, impersonal facts of the press release and the funeral allow Jake to push aside his grief again and he’s poised and in control of himself during those discussions.

To Tom’s pleasant surprise, Jake’s more enthusiastic about eating dinner and the day seems to be ending on a relatively high note…until they go up to Jake’s bedroom to sleep and there’s a picture of Brian, Judy and Jake sitting on Jake’s bedside table. It’s a photo from when Jake was a young boy and all three of them are grinning at the camera. Seeing Judy and Brian’s faces and being reminded that he’ll never get to see them again in person brings a lump to Tom’s throat and makes Jake dissolve into tears again. Tom pulls Jake into his arms and holds him tight, his throat tight and his heart aching.

Jake’s clutching Tom and staring at the photograph as he sobs. “We were supposed to celebrate my dad’s birthday today. We were supposed to give him his fixed watch and he was supposed to eat his cake. I can’t…Tom, how did this happen?! I want them to come home. I want…I want them to come home.”

All Tom can do is hold him and cry, hating how this is their reality. How is it possible that he’d heard Judy and Brian’s voices on the phone yesterday morning and now, they’re both gone forever?

Despite how badly the day ends, Tom’s happy when Jake finally drifts off to sleep. He’s less happy—in fact, he’s shocked—when they wake up the next morning and Jake stares around in confusion. “Tom? When did we come to my parents’?”

For a second, Tom fears that Jake’s having some kind of mental break down and he’s forgotten about his parents’ death. “Do you remember what happened to your parents?”

Jake’s jaw tightens. “I’m not an idiot. Obviously, I remember that they’re…not here anymore. But I don’t remember coming here. When did we get here?”

“Yesterday morning.”

Frowning, Jake sits up, looking unsettled. “I don’t remember anything about yesterday. Well, flashes of it. I ate churros. Raphael must have made them. They’ve been one of my favorite desserts since I was little. I also remember a room full of flowers. It smelled like a perfume bottle had exploded.”

“You seriously don’t remember anything else about yesterday?”

Jake shakes his head. “No.”

They exchange a worried look, but Tom hates seeing such fear in Jake’s eyes and he sits up and grabs one of Jake’s hands, squeezing hard. “Don’t worry about it. Grief does funny things to people’s minds. I’ll tell you exactly what happened yesterday. I’ll also write it down so you can refer back to it if you forget again. And today, I’ll write stuff down during the day.”

Jake presses his lips together. “You don’t have to do that.”

Leaning forward, Tom kisses Jake and gently wraps his hands around his neck. “No, but I love you, so I want to.”


	15. Chapter 15

The next week passes by in a blur. The only reason Jake knows it’s a week is because Tom helps him keep track of the days and he’ll remind Jake throughout the day what day and date it is. Jake is so unbelievably grateful for Tom’s presence. He feels numb and empty, like somebody’s scooped out all the important parts of him and left a shell behind. Tom tells him his brain and body are doing what he’s supposed to be doing, but Jake isn’t aware of any of it.

He knows he meets with the lawyers and dozens of other people. He knows he makes important decisions about his future and the future of the people who had depended on his parents. He knows he reads and signs dozens of important documents. He knows he answers hundreds of questions from different people. But the only reason he knows is because Tom keeps a written record of what Jake does during the day. Jake only remembers small flashes.

He’s constantly switching back and forth between that numbness that keeps him almost paralyzed versus overwhelming grief that makes his tears flow without any warning signs. He usually has a few moments of clarity in the mornings where he’s fully aware of what’s going on around him and he’s always impressed when he looks at Tom’s notes from the day before and realizes that his lifetime of education and training as his parents’ heir has paid off and he’s making all the right decisions without even being aware of it.

But despite what he’s managing to accomplish, he’s grateful that his parents had made detailed plans for their funerals, their staff, their belongings and the hotels. All Jake has to do is authorize the right people to carry out his parents’ wishes and the rest will happen automatically. Having everything laid out in written form makes it much easier to focus on the details in front of him, rather than the emotions associated with the words themselves.

The funeral is the same blur that everything else is. He’s attended enough funerals in his life that his body knows what to do and say. Tom sits next to him and Jake clutches his hand through most of it, drawing strength from him. Jake knows people are supposed to use funerals to say goodbye to their loved ones who had passed away, but he’s barely aware of what’s going on. Expecting him to fully process what’s happening would be insane.

He can’t believe how lucky he is to have Tom. Every morning as they’re going over what Jake had done the day before, Jake’s heart glows with the intense love he feels for him, which he tells him every morning.

Half-way through the week, Jake abruptly realizes one morning that Tom has been missing his sessions and hasn’t mentioned it. Thinking that Tom’s forgotten about his clients makes Jake very anxious and he scares Tom pretty badly when he frantically shakes him awake one morning and tells him he needs to get back to the hotel. It takes Tom a while to catch up, but his only response is to smile softly and inform Jake that it’s all been taken care of.

“What do you mean ‘taken care of’?! When?”

“I re-scheduled my clients before we left the hotel. I told them I needed to take a week off for personal reasons and they’re fine with it.”

Jake stares down at him, panicked. “But I didn’t want you to miss work! We promised we wouldn’t do that to each other.”

In contrast to Jake’s panic, Tom’s still calm as he lies in bed, smiling up at Jake. “I know and you weren’t the one who asked me to cancel my sessions, were you?”

“Well, no. But—”

“But nothing. I made the decision that I’d rather be here with you than work, so that’s what I did. It was my choice.”

Jake chews on his lip, still worried. “What if you lose clients?”

Tom shrugs. “Then I’ll get new clients. But if any of my clients aren’t willing to skip a week of getting their dicks sucked if the person I love needs me for emotional and physical support, then I won’t be sad to lose them.”

Tom had treated the whole conversation so casually. As if it’s completely normal for somebody to put their job in jeopardy because Jake needs to lean on them for support. Except for his parents, Jake’s never had anybody in his life who would do something like that for him—never mind doing it without Jake asking them to.

Unfortunately, Tom’s support remains the only bright part of Jake’s days. Each day that goes by, his grief seems to get worse. Each day, the time that’s passed since he’d last heard his parents’ voices in real life moves further and further away and it’s incredibly painful to know that the stretch of time will just grow longer and longer. It’ll never end, because he’ll never get to hear his parents’ voices again.

There are so many things he wants to talk to his parents about. In a strange way, he wishes they were here to help comfort him and guide him to help him with their deaths. He misses them so badly and he can’t wrap his head around the idea that he’ll never get to have them back. No matter how many days or months or years go by, they’re gone forever.

When his heart is aching especially badly, he’ll pull out his phone and watch the videos and photos his parents had sent him over the years or he’ll flip through the photo albums in the living room. It actually makes his pain much worse, but when he’s missing them so much, he can’t help himself. Seeing their smiling faces in pictures is bad enough, but the videos are excruciating. Hearing his parents’ voices in addition to seeing their faces is heart breaking. It’s like watching little snippets of his parents’ lives that had been captured on video and that’s all he has left of them.

For some reason, watching the waterslide video is the worst one because it’s full of promises that Jake wishes they could keep but that’ll never happen:

His dad is walking up to his mom and taking the phone from her as he wraps his arm around her shoulder and focuses the camera so they’re both in the shot, smiling at Jake. “Alright, so the final verdict of Seever Hotel’s first water park is a definite…?”

“100 percent approval!” His mom says, giving two big thumbs up.

“Well, you heard it here first, Jake!” His dad says, grinning at the camera. “We’ll time our next trip here so it takes place over a weekend and you can come with us.”

“You’ll have a lot of fun, sweetheart!”

“Alright, it’s time for us to say goodbye and find our towels. We have another meeting to get to and sadly, that meeting isn’t taking place in the water park.”

His mom waves and blows Jake a kiss. “Bye, sweetheart! I love you and we’ll see you soon!”

“Bye, Jake!” His dad says, waving. “I love you and we’ll call you tomorrow morning.”

* * *

A few days after the funeral, Jake decides it’s time to head back to the hotel. He doesn’t really want to go back to work…but he doesn’t really want to do anything these days. He’s empty and sad and the tears still come whenever he thinks about his parents even for a few seconds. The pain isn’t getting any better and hearing everybody around him telling him that he needs time to heal is unhelpful.

Tom continues being the best thing that Jake has in his life. He never seems to get tired of telling Jake the same thing over and over again when his brain isn’t working and he doesn’t seem to mind Jake’s constant crying. But Jake is starting to mind. He hates spending his days being sad. Once all the work related to his parents’ estate is taken care of, he’s starting to feel lazy too. Tom points out that his parents wouldn’t want Jake going back to work until he feels better, but Jake thinks that won’t happen in his lifetime. Staying in his parents’ home and dealing with all the grieving people around him only keeps him in a state of sadness and that’s not helping. Going back to work will be a nice distraction and hopefully, that’ll help make Jake feel better.

It’s very difficult deciding what to take with him from the house. On one hand, Jake wants to take everything with him—the furniture, the paintings, the clothes—but not only would that be impossible, but he thinks that will probably add to his grief. If it’s too difficult being around his parents’ belongings while in the house, it’ll only be marginally better if Jake drags everything with him. He doesn’t want to end up being one of those crazy old people who live in a home stuffed with clutter belonging to people who passed away long ago.

At the end, he picks one of his dad’s watches and a pair of his mom’s sunglasses. While his dad had loved his old gold watch the most, he had built up an impressive collection over his lifetime and his mom had loved spending ridiculous amounts of money on designer sunglasses.

Jake sobs uncontrollably when he’s looking into his dad’s watch drawer and his mom’s sunglasses drawer, but Tom keeps his arms wrapped around him and encourages him to take his time choosing as many as he wants. Staring into the watch drawer is especially difficult because there are two empty spots. One spot used to hold the watch his dad was wearing when the plane crashed. The other is empty because that’s the one his mom had taken to get repaired and that’s the watch they would have given his dad on his birthday. Jake could get both watches back, if he wanted them. He’d been told a few days ago that his parents’ personal effects had been collected from the crash site, but the idea of having any of those belongings had given him a near panic attack. He doesn’t really understand why, but Tom had told him if having those things wouldn’t make him feel good, then he doesn’t have to keep them.

“How about picking ones that you remembering them wearing when you were younger?” Tom asks softly, his arms wrapped around Jake. “That way, the memories associated with them will always be happy ones.”

Jake likes that idea and his hands automatically pick out the watch and sunglasses he remembers his parents wearing a lot when he was younger. Once that’s done, he quietly asks Tom to help him leave the room because he doesn’t think he’ll be able to do it by himself.

He also takes a bunch of photo albums and framed pictures of him, his parents and his grandparents, including the one from his bedroom. There’s a very special photo album that includes photos of his parents—and sometimes Jake—attending the grand openings of every Seever Hotel around the world, which his mom had always been very proud of. Once he’d confirmed that he’s happy with the things he’s taking with him, he tells the staff they can help themselves to anything else in the house. Everything else will be sold off by people who will be hired by the army of people who are helping deal with his parents’ estate.

When that’s done, it’s time to get things packed up and officially close this chapter in his life. Saying goodbye to the staff who he’d known for most of his life is hard, as is leaving the house he’d grown up in. That all adds to his grief, but it cements Jake’s belief that putting more distance between himself and reminders of his parents will help him. Staying stuck in this ocean of grief is only dragging him further and further down.

When he and Tom are in the car, being driven back to the hotel and the house grows smaller and smaller behind them, Jake dissolves into tears again, feeling like he’s leaving his parents behind.

Tom pulls him into his arms and kisses his temple. “They’d be proud of you. You know they would be.”

“I know, but it’s hard. I want to stay, but I don’t,” he whispers, his voice choked with tears.

“You’ve been adamant that staying there won’t help you, and your parents would want you to do whatever necessary to make you feel better.”

“I know that. But…it’s hard.” As usual, he’s doing a terrible job having a conversation with Tom. He’s repeating the same thing over and over again, somehow hoping Tom will offer a different response, despite knowing that he wouldn’t be happy with any response.

But as always, Tom seems to understand. He squeezes his arms around Jake and gently rubs his back, reminding him that his parents would be proud of him.

* * *

Jake hadn’t really thought about what being back at the hotel will be like. On one hand, logic dictates that it should be business as usual in the hotel. But on the other hand, Jake doesn’t see how that could possibly be the case. He’s sure that the place will be as sullen and quiet as his parents’ home had been.

That’s why it’s a shock to walk into the lobby and see that everything’s normal. Completely normal. Guests are milling around, dragging suitcases and holding children by their hands, a couple is sitting on the couches and laughing, people are talking to the front desk agents, who are all smiling as they chat. Jason, one of the bellmen, walks by with a luggage cart filled with suitcases. One of the managers is by the front desk, pointing at something on a computer screen while an agent and a male guest lean over to take a look.

It’s as if nothing has happened. Everything is exactly the way it was when his parents were alive. A tiny, rational voice in Jake’s head points out that this is a good thing. This is how it should be. This is why his parents had put so many detailed plans into place and why Jake and Tom have been working hard over the past week.

But his only reaction is stunned disbelief. How is this possible?! How are all these people still living their lives as if things are still normal? Jake’s entire world has been turned upside down and he doesn’t understand how the rest of the world appears to be unaffected.

He stands in the lobby, tears welling up in his eyes and his heart clenching with pain. As much as it would have frustrated him to see people drowning in grief and the hotel having slowed to a crawl, it would be preferable to this. Seeing everybody acting like it’s just another day is shocking and heartbreaking. They’re acting like his parents hadn’t even mattered. As if removing his parents from this world had no impact.

Tom appears next to him. “You okay?”

Jake stares at Tom. “Why are they acting like nothing’s wrong?” His voice is shaking.

“What? Who?”

Waving a limp hand around, Jake swallows hard and blinks to push his tears back. He doesn’t want to cry in front of these people. “Look at them. They’re acting like nothing’s happened. Like my parents not being here doesn’t matter.”

Tom’s eyes fill with pain and he clenches his jaw. “I’m sure the staff is grieving. You know that many of them knew your parents and I’m sure your parents not being here impacted them. You remember Chesa came to your room?”

Jake nods as his eyes drift over the laughing, happy people who are walking around a world where laughing shouldn’t be possible anymore. Gently squeezing Jake’s arm, Tom tries to catch his gaze but Jake can’t tear his eyes off the people who somehow haven’t had their hearts torn to shreds by his parents no longer being here.

“Jake, don’t take it personally. Most of these people didn’t know your parents. If any of these people lost somebody they loved, you’d still be living your own life, wouldn’t you?”

“I know that,” Jake whispers. “But it’s still…shocking. I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it. Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

Tom leads him to the elevators and Jake keeps his jaw clenched until they’ve reached his room. Once they’re inside, the familiarity of his room helps Jake feel better. It also helps that the stupid, smiling people have been left behind in the lobby and he doesn’t have to look at them anymore.

“Do you wanna put the pictures up on the walls?” Tom asks him while Jake’s putting his clothes back into his closet.

Smiling, Jake nods. He’s never put any pictures on the wall, preferring to just be happy with framed landscape photos that the room had come decorated with but he loves the idea of seeing his parents’ faces on his walls.

They decide to put most of the pictures in Jake’s bedroom and the rest go on the coffee table and in the living room area, where Jake spends most of his time. The picture that had sat on Jake’s bedside table at his parents’ house goes on his bedside table in the bedroom so Jake can continue seeing it every morning and night.

Putting up the photos and finding nice places to keep his dad’s watch and his mom’s sunglasses helps cheer Jake up somewhat. Being back in his own room also helps lift his mood. It reminds Jake that he’s going back to work tomorrow and that means getting back to his normal routine. After spending so many days crying and miserable, he’s looking forward to resuming his normal schedule.

Tom goes to his room to put his stuff away but he wanders back to Jake’s when he’s done. They spend the afternoon lounging on the couch and getting ready for their work days tomorrow. To familiarize himself with tomorrow’s menu, Jake reads over the current dessert menu that Liying had put in place on his behalf. Luckily, Liying had composed the menu using Jake’s old desserts and he’s familiar with all of them.

“So? What are the dessert options for tomorrow?” Tom asks him, scrolling through his phone as he prepares to call clients to let them know he’s resuming sessions tomorrow.

“She’s using the chocolate cremeux cake and the mango dome entremet.” Jake mumbles, looking through the rest of the dinner menu to assess if the desserts suit the other dishes the restaurant’s offering. Luckily, the menu profile is nicely cohesive. Liying may not have Jake’s creative talents for coming up with brand new desserts, but her palate is even better than Jake’s. It’s something Jake hates admitting, but it makes them well-matched in the kitchen.

“Mmm. That would be a tough choice. You know I’d go for the chocolate cake, but the mango dome tastes so damn good. And the shiny glaze is so pretty.”

Jake smiles. “Hopefully, I’ll be making versions that’ll meet your standards tomorrow.”

Tom snorts. “Like you could possibly disappoint anybody in the kitchen. Right. Hell will freeze over first.”

Smiling and feeling proud of Tom’s confidence in him, Jake grabs his phone and sends Liying a text message, asking which dessert he’ll be responsible for plating. He’ll need to do a practice round tonight before service tomorrow. Liying is surprised that Jake will be coming back to work so soon, but after Jake tells her politely but firmly that he wants to focus on work, her text messages go back to being fully focused on desserts.

Everything’s fine, up until Jake decides to make them dinner and goes to check his fridge. He’d called ahead to place his usual grocery delivery order and he knows his fridge has been re-stocked with everything he usually likes to cook with…but he’s completely forgotten about one of the items that’s been sitting in his fridge.

His dad’s birthday cake.

As soon as Jake pulls open the door and sees the large gold-colored cake taking up an entire shelf, he goes numb with shock and slams the door shut again. He stands there, frozen. It’s surprising that he’s not crying already, but he knows he’s close to it. He’s learned by now that he usually has a few seconds after being reminded about his parents to distract himself with something else, or the tears will win.

“Tom?” Jake calls out. His voice is shaking and he must sound desperate or scared, because Tom comes running into the kitchen, looking alarmed.

“You okay?!”

“The—my dad’s birthday cake,” Jake whispers, staring at Tom.

Tom frowns, until his face clears and his eyes widen. “Shit. It’s still in there.”

“Yes. I don’t—what do I do with it?”

Pressing his lips together, Tom looks worried. “Has it gone bad yet?”

“No. It looks just as perfect as it did when we put it in.”

Jake knows Tom wouldn’t dare suggest eating it—the very thought is disrespectful—but that’s what cake’s are designed for. That’s why Jake’s stuck.

“You don’t have to make any decisions right now. Just leave it in the fridge. Or do you want me to bring it to my fridge?”

“It’s too big for your fridge,” Jake mumbles.

“That’s true. Shit.”

The thought of transferring the cake somewhere else brings up a whole new set of problems because the thought of anybody touching it and possibly damaging it fills Jake with panic so strong that his heart’s racing. “I don’t want anybody touching it.”

Tom holds up soothing hands. “Okay. Nobody’s touching the cake, I promise. Nobody will touch it until you say it’s okay.”

That’s good. But it leaves his initial concern. “But then…what do I do with it? I can’t—the fridge isn’t—I don’t like seeing it there. But it needs to stay there. But I need the other things in the fridge.”

Smiling at Jake so kindly—despite how ridiculous Jake’s being about this whole thing—Tom gently rubs Jake’s sides. “How about you tell me what you need out of the fridge and I’ll get it for you? Once you’re ready to deal with the cake, then we’ll deal with it.”

That brings up another concern. Tom has become such a permanent part of his life, but surely, Tom will want to return to his own life now that they’re back at the hotel. “How long are you going to stay with me?”

“Tonight? I can sleep here, if you want.”

“I mean…in general.”

“As long as you want. I’ll have to go back to my room to do prep and sessions, but you’ll be at work then anyway.”

Relief floods him when he realizes that the only good part of the chaos he’s been living for the past week will stay part of his life. Sighing, Jake stares at Tom, overwhelmed with how much he loves this amazing man. “You know I love you, right?” He whispers, his voice shaking.

Tom gets that soft smile on his face that he always gets when Jake tells him he loves him. “I know. And you know that I love you too, right?”

Jake lets out a strangled laugh. “Nobody would be doing what you’ve done for me this past week if they didn’t love me.”

Smiling, Tom opens his arms and Jake gladly steps into the familiar invitation. Wrapping his arms around Tom, he relaxes against him and presses his nose against Tom’s warm neck, feeling his arms tightening around Jake’s back.

* * *

Having Tom assist him with the fridge very neatly solves his problem with the birthday cake and it allows Jake to settle back into his routine faster. After he’d cooked them dinner, Jake decides to prepare the Mango Dome Entremet dessert which he’ll be helping plate tomorrow.

It takes a few hours to prepare, but the end result will be worth it. Once he’s finished preparing the mango and white chocolate mousse domes, he pours orange mango glaze over them and carefully inspects them from all sides to ensure the glaze hasn’t missed any spots. The final step is decoration.

Taking out a sheet of edible gold foil, Jake uses his ruler to cut out little triangle shapes, with each side being a precise 1/4 inches. The gold foil is sticky and very fragile so it’s difficult to handle, but Jake stays focused and moves methodically. When he’s cut the little triangles out and re-measured all sides to ensure they’re a perfect 1/4 inches, he uses tweezers to carefully place four triangles on top of each dome in a circular shape, making sure the triangles have exactly 1/4 inches of space between them. Using his ruler and tweezers, he carefully nudges the gold foil into position until they’re in the exact spots he wants them.

When both mango domes are done, Jake leans back and grins down at them, proud of himself. The orange glaze is shiny and beautiful, the domes are the exact same size and the gold triangles shine beautifully on top of the glaze. Triumphantly putting his ruler down, Jake sighs happily. He’s definitely ready for service tomorrow. “Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“Dessert’s ready!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recipe Link: [Mango Dome Entremet](https://chefiso.com/p/mango-dome-entremet-cake/)


	16. Chapter 16

The next afternoon, Jake pulls on a newly washed and ironed chef’s jacket, double checks that his rulers and protractors are in his pocket, then it’s time to hug Tom and get a final boost of confidence before going downstairs. Tom’s grinning and kisses Jake hard. “You’re gonna do great.”

Smiling, Jake slides his hands under the back of Tom’s shirt and kisses him. He feels so good that he even slips his tongue out and licks Tom’s lips a bit, which makes Tom suck in an excited breath and part his lips, sliding his tongue against Jake’s. They hadn’t done more than exchange chaste kisses in the past week, and Jake’s so thrilled that things seem to be getting back to normal.

A small voice in the back of his head is shocked by this. It demands to know how Jake is daring to go back to his normal life. That would be disrespectful to his parents! How can he be happy about his life going back to normal and resuming the activities he’d been doing before, as if his parents didn’t matter? He’d be just as bad as those people in the lobby! He’ll be—

But Jake pushes those thoughts aside and clings to the glow of happiness that’s filling him. If he stops to think about his parents, all those happy feelings will go away and he’ll start crying. When it comes to the stupid crying, it’s always a matter of ‘when’, not ‘if’. Jake’s learned by now that the crying doesn’t accomplish anything, so it’s best to keep himself distracted. And anyway, his parents would want Jake to go back to work. They’d want Jake to be happy and productive.

It’s weird to have these conflicting thoughts in his head. On one hand, mourning for his parents constantly seems like the respectful thing to do…but Jake’s sure that’s not what his parents would want.

Being back in the kitchen is a little strange at first. Everybody is looking at him with sympathetic frowns on their faces and giving him their condolences, but Jake wants things to go back to normal as soon as possible. If things aren’t normal, he’ll start crying and everything will turn into a mess. He gives all of them the same grateful smile he’s given to dozens of people over the past week, thanks them for their condolences and for allowing him to take the week off. Then he kindly but firmly requests that everybody treat him the way they usually do.

Chef Mitra briefly pulls him into the pantry and quietly reminds him that he has two weeks of bereavement leave and he’s allowed to take the full time.

Jake smiles, touched by her concern. “Thank you, Chef. I’ve thought about it and I feel coming back to work will be what’s best for me.”

She gives him a long look, but then nods. “Alright. If you feel you’re ready to return to service, then we’re happy to have you back.”

She still looks hesitant and the rest of the kitchen staff keeps staring at him uncertainly, which isn’t what Jake wants. Luckily, Liying seems to fully support Jake’s request and she steps in to give their pastry assistants orders and pulls out their prep list to split up tasks between herself and Jake.

Getting back into the routine of the kitchen fills Jake with contentment. Prep flies by and it’s so nice to be touching equipment he’s familiar with and doing the same things he’s done a hundred times before. It keeps him busy and nicely distracted, which is exactly what he’s been craving. By the time service starts, everybody seems to have accepted that Jake’s fine, which is fantastic.

“Chef Huang, Chef Seever, you’re up! Table 13, three mango entremets and one chocolate cremeux.”

Grabbing his serving tray, Jake walks towards the cooler as he calls out “Yes, Chef!”. Once he’s grabbed the three mango domes, he brings them back to his decorating station. Liying is next to him, working on decorating the chocolate cremeux cake. Since Jake has three domes to plate to her one cake, he has to hurry. Liying will jump in and help Jake finish if he’s too slow, but Jake should be able to do it.

He transfers all three cold domes onto a rack and slowly pours the mango glaze over them. Inspecting them on all sides, he makes sure he hasn’t missed any spots. When he’s satisfied, he puts down the pitcher filled with glaze and waits a few seconds for the excess glaze to drip through the rack and set on the domes. While he waits, his eyes glance around the kitchen. There’s the usual organized chaos of people working at their stations, but his eyes happen to land on the empty chef’s table…which turns out to have been a bad decision.

Immediately, memories of his parents sitting at that table come flooding back to him. Staring at the table, Jake remembers standing right next to it while presenting his desserts to his parents. He’d made them vanilla panna cotta desserts, served in those beautiful ice sculptures. His mom loved panna cotta—

“ _This is wonderful, honey. And I can’t help but notice the panna cotta.”_

“ _Would you believe me if I said it was a coincidence?”_

“ _Not at all. Thank you so much for adding it on just for me. I really appreciate it.”_

His dad had asked him how he’d made the ice sculptures. His dad had loved the way the dessert looked so much—

“ _It looks fantastic, Jake! As usual, it’s too beautiful to eat.”_

His dad had been so sad when Jake had told him he would have to break the isomalt disc on top to mix together all the ingredients in order to eat it. Jake had cracked through the disc for him.

“Jake?”

His parents had been so proud of him. It had been such a wonderful evening. But as Jake stares at the empty table, he remembers that his memories are all in the past. His parents will never sit at the chef’s table again. They’ll never eat another one of Jake’s desserts. It doesn’t matter what beautiful creations Jake makes from now until the day he dies, his parents will never see any of them.

That familiar lump grows in his throat and the tears well up in his eyes. He can’t wrap his mind around the idea that he’s going to continue living for decades and his parents won’t be part of any of them. He’ll never be able to watch them try one of his desserts. He’ll never be able to discuss his dessert ideas with them. He’ll never get to rant to them about a bad service. He’ll never have another conversation with his parents.

Never.

“Jake!”

Liying’s voice abruptly pulls him out of his grief and he stares at her. Clenching his jaw hard, he tries to blink the tears back. He can’t cry in the kitchen.

Liying is frowning at him. “Go have a break. I’ll finish this table.”

For a moment, Jake has no idea what she’s talking about. What table? The chef’s table is empty. That’s the point—his parents aren’t here and they’ll never be here again.

But when she gestures at the counter, Jake manages to tear his gaze off her and look down at the counter. Just like a week ago, his body has slowed to a crawl. He’s having difficulty breathing and his mind is stuck in the dark pit that represents the empty decades he’ll have to get through without his parents.

When he sees the three orange glazed domes on the rack, reality slowly seeps back in. These are mango dome entremets. He’s supposed to be plating them. He doesn’t remember what table they’re for, which is ridiculous. He’s never forgotten an order.

But when he sees that Liying’s chocolate cake is already ready to go, he realizes he’s in big trouble. He hasn’t plated any of them yet or started with the decoration. Jesus! And he’s just standing here, staring! Panic rushes through him. He’s glad his parents aren’t sitting at the chef’s table because they’d be so embarrassed by him. He’s in the middle of service and he’s. Still. Not. Moving.

Blinking hard, he sucks in a shaky breath and forces his numb hand to grab the cake serving utensil and slowly transfers each of the domes onto the waiting white plates. His hand isn’t holding the utensil very well and he has trouble keeping hold of it, but he manages to transfer each of the domes. Then it’s time to measure. It takes him two tries to pull his ruler out of his pocket, but he manages to get it out. Bending over the first plate, he measures the distance between the edge of the dome and the plate. He knows it needs to be 4 inches. The first measurement is 6 and 3/4 inches. Ridiculous.

Jake can’t believe he misjudged the center of the plate so badly. He’s never done that before. Anger is slow to come, but it simmers through him. This isn’t hard! He’s moving way too slowly, he’s wasting time and he’s turning this plate into a disaster. His parents would really be ashamed of him. Carefully nudging the cake over, Jake keeps his ruler on the plate. His fingers are shaking and it’s taking him forever the push the cake over.

“Jake, can I do the other two? My cake’s dying.”

“Chef Seever! Let’s go, please. I need those desserts going out.”

Hearing both Liying and Chef Mitra getting annoyed at him makes Jake’s anger at himself grow. He desperately tries pushing aside the heavy grief that’s sitting in his gut so he can focus on moving faster, but his body and mind aren’t cooperating.

“ _It looks fantastic, Jake! As usual, it’s too beautiful to eat.”_

His parents will never see any of his desserts again. He might live another sixty years. Sixty years of not seeing his parents or talking to them. The tears well up again and Jake struggles to keep breathing as sadness and anger mix together.

He stares down at the plate and mentally curses at the stupid dome cheesecake. He finally got it to 4 inches, but he still needs to measure the rest of the cake, as well as the other two cakes. Then he needs to do the mango compote dots _and_ he needs to place the gold foil triangles on top. The amount of work he has left makes him want to cry.

“Jake! Seriously, we need to hurry up.”

Anxiety flashes through him and fuels his anger. Why is he still just standing here?! Why isn’t he moving?!

“ _This is wonderful, honey. And I can’t help but notice the panna cotta.”_

The plate that he’s been staring at for way too long is being pulled across the counter and that shakes Jake out of his thoughts for a moment. Looking up, he sees it’s Liying who’s pulling the plate towards herself. She’s going to take over for Jake because he’s useless and pathetic. She has to do Jake’s job for him because he’s busy thinking about an empty table and his dead parents instead of his job.

Breathing in hard, choppy bursts, Jake flushes with shame and pulls another one of the plates close to him, determined to pick up the pace and stop embarrassing his parents and himself. Clutching the ruler in his shaking hand, he bends over the plate and measures one side. 3 and 1/16 inches. Staring at the black lines on the ruler, Jake slowly nudges the dome over, watching it sliding towards the 4 inch marker.

But when he’s still at 3 and 5/6 inches, the plate moves away from him.

Anger rushes through him and Jake grabs the edge of the plate, glaring at Liying. “I can do it!”

Liying’s jaw shifts but her gaze is impassive. “We’re three tables behind already and my chocolate cake’s dying. You’re being too slow. I’m really sorry, but…”

Flushing with humiliation at his ridiculous performance, Jake’s numb hand releases the plate she’s pulling. He’s lost two out of his three plates already. His parents would be so ashamed of him! He’s on the verge of tears, but then he realizes if he keeps standing here, crying, he’s going to lose his final plate too.

That brings a rush of anger back. He’s better than this! His parents expect him to do better, Jake expects himself to do better and he can do this. He just needs to focus and stop thinking about the empty chef’s table. Bending down, he brings his shaking hand and his ruler close to the cake and begins to measure. He manages to get it to 4 inches, but when he’s only measured halfway around the cake, the plate is slowly pulled away from him. This time, he’s really annoyed. He can do this and Liying isn’t even giving him a chance! Grabbing the edge of the plate he stops its slow crawl away from him. “Let me do it!”

Liying lets out a frustrated sound. “You can do the next table. We’re so behind!”

Anxiety’s making his skin crawl and he wants to cry again. He’s never gotten this behind in service! At most, he’s one table behind, but he has no idea how many tables they’re behind now. He hasn’t even heard the other orders! He’s embarrassed and ashamed of himself and all of that quickly morphs into anger. Why can’t he do this?! Just because his parents aren’t here doesn’t mean he suddenly lost all of his skills! His parents have never been part of his plating process, so why can’t he do this?!

The hot anger races through him and before he’s aware of what he’s doing, he’s turning that anger on Liying. Tightening his grip on the plate, he glares at her. “Don’t take my plate from me! Focus on your own damn desserts.”

Frowning, she tightens her grip on the plate. “Don’t be ridiculous. We need to keep moving!”

“That’s what I’m trying to do! You’re interfering with my station.”

“ _Your_ station?! We share this station and I’m trying to help you!”

The implication that he’s performing so poorly that Liying has to help him stings. He tries to remind himself that they often help each other and teamwork is how a successful kitchen runs, but none of those arguments are helping calm his temper.

“Fine! Take the damn plate!” Giving the plate a push, he shoves it towards Liying. She hadn’t been expecting him to do that and she stumbles back and the plate slides off the counter and smashes on the floor.

Seeing the broken shards of porcelain and the bits of orange glaze and white chocolate splattered all over the kitchen floor makes Jake’s tears well up again. What the hell is he _doing?!_

But before he can analyze the situation rationally, his anger interrupts and points out that this is clearly Liying’s fault. If she would have given Jake more time to finish plating, he could have finished and they’d be moving onto the next table. In fact, Jake’s sure he would have caught up very quickly, but Liying’s interference is slowing him down. That realization makes him glare at her and he opens his mouth to demand that she focus on her own desserts and leave him alone—when Chef Mitra’s voice carries over to them.

“Chef Seever! Into the pantry. Now!”

Hearing Chef using that tone of voice would normally send shiver down Jake’s spine, but he’s still filled with rage and he glares at her. But obeying her is habit and he mutters a “Yes, Chef” before storming over to the pantry and yanking the door open.

Chef Mitra follows him and shuts the door behind them. When she turns to look at him, her eyes are dark with anger. “Chef Seever, your behavior is unacceptable.”

Jake gapes at her. _His_ behavior?! “Chef Huang is interfering with my plates, Chef!”

“No, she wasn’t. She gave you ample opportunity to plate your desserts but you weren’t keeping up. She stepped in to help you catch up, which is what I expect of her.”

Jake’s anger is getting worse. Having both Chef Mitra and Liying think he’s being pathetic and slow makes the humiliation worse, which in turn fuels that anger. “I would have caught up! She didn’t give me a chance.”

“She gave you more time than I would have tolerated! Your head is clearly not on service and that’s unacceptable.”

“I would have caught up!”

Chef Mitra lets out a loud sigh and briefly closes her eyes. When she opens them again, she looks sad. “Jake, clearly, you’re not ready to be back in the kitchen.”

That sends a cold shudder down Jake’s back. Not only is he humiliated, but if Chef bans him from the kitchen, he’ll have nothing to distract him from his parents again. That can’t happen. “I can do better, Chef. Just give me another chance.”

“Chef Huang gave you the opportunity to pick up the pace with every single plate and you didn’t improve. I’m sorry, but you’re not fit to be on the line right now.”

Jake nearly bursts into tears. No, no, no! She can’t take the kitchen away from him. He needs to be in service! He needs to have the distraction. “Please, Chef. I’ll do better, I promise.”

She sighs heavily. “Being in the kitchen right now isn’t good for you or the team. I’m sorry, but I can’t have you performing at the pace you’re currently at. We don’t have time for that and you know it.”

She’s really going to ban him from the kitchen. She’s really going to take this away from him. As before, his shock and humiliation quickly turn back into anger. How _dare_ she?! “You have no right to ban me from the kitchen!”

Frowning at him, Chef Mitra stares at him as if he’s suddenly turned into an alien. “Yes…yes, I _do_ have that right. But that’s not the point. I’m not banning you, Jake. I’m asking you to take a few weeks of leave to get—”

Before he can stop himself, he hears himself shouting: “My parents own this hotel!”

That makes her fall silent and she stares at him in shock.

Jake wishes he could take the words back. He hates using his status to manipulate other people, especially in the kitchen. He’s always prided himself on never doing that in the kitchen. His parents had taught him to never abuse the privileges he was born with, unless it’s an emergency. And this…isn’t an emergency.

Chef Mitra finds her words first. “Chef Seever…that statement shows me that you’re not being yourself right now. Your performance and your attitude aren’t who you really are, and all of that supports the need for your to take some time off. You can either take a voluntary leave or I’ll have to put you on leave.”

He gapes at her, stunned into silence.

“I’ll record it as a medical leave, which isn’t far from the truth. Your job will still…”

Jake stops listening to her as shock numbs him. He just lost his job. Chef Mitra just took his job away from him. Now, he’ll have nothing to distract him from that never ending grief that haunts the rest of his days and nights. He wants to beg her to reconsider, but he knows she won’t. Clearly, Chef Mitra has completely lost faith in him and his abilities. She doesn’t want him in her kitchen. He no longer deserves to be in her kitchen.

His parents would be so ashamed of him. Wanting to cry at how disappointed he is at himself, he clenches his jaw hard to keep the tears at bay. He’s not going to cry in front of Chef. He’s already humiliated himself and he’s not going to add to that. If she thinks he’s not good enough to be in her kitchen, then he’ll gather the last of his dignity and quietly make his exit.

“Thank you for taking the time to speak to me, Chef Mitra,” Jake mumbles.

Unfortunately, she was in the middle of saying something that Jake hadn’t been listening to, but she stops talking and stares at him. “I’m very sorry, Jake. I truly am.”

Oh, he is too. Turning, he stumbles out of the pantry. He doesn’t hear the noise in the kitchen and he’s barely aware of walking through the kitchen to the door.

His mind is numb with shock. He just lost his job because of his own incompetence. He’s pathetic and no longer deserves to work in his parents’ restaurant. His feet walk him up to his room and he finds himself sitting on his couch with no memory of having gotten there. This is where he’ll spend the rest of his life. He’ll never be allowed in the kitchen again and he’ll have to spend every single day immersed in his grief.

His eyes fall on one of the framed photos that’s sitting on the coffee table and his parents smile at him. That makes Jake flush with embarrassment. Oh, they’d be so ashamed of him! Performing so poorly and then getting fired! Reaching over with shaking hands, Jake gently puts the photo face-down on the table, too humiliated to look at them.

Now that he’s by himself, he finally lets his tears come. He can’t believe how badly he’d performed! If only Liying and Chef Mitra had given him more time! He’s sure he would have caught up and started doing better.

As he sits there, crying and feeling sorry for himself, his sadness gradually turns to indignation. Is it really his fault? Sure, he’d gotten distracted by the chef’s table for a few minutes, but then he’d started working on his plates. Liying taking one plate away from him made sense, but he would have been able to get his other two plates out. But she hadn’t given him enough time! And Chef Mitra! She hadn’t given him a fair chance either. She’d watched Jake being slow on one plate and then decided to fire him. That’s completely unfair! He would have gotten those plates out and caught up. But she hadn’t even let him try!

As the hours slip by, his sadness gets completely replaced by anger. If Liying and Chef Mitra had given him a fair chance instead of throwing him out of the kitchen, he could have improved his performance and made his parents proud again. But they didn’t give him that chance!

A knock on the door distracts Jake from his internal ranting. Glancing at the time, he realizes that must be Tom and excitement races through him. He can’t wait to tell Tom how unfair everybody has been towards him! Tom will be on his side and then they’ll come up with a plan to get Jake his job back. Eagerly getting off the couch, Jake hurries over to the door and yanks it open.

Tom grins at him. “Hey.”

Jake tries to smile, but he’s still too angry to smile. “Hi.”

A frown appears on Tom’s face as he steps into Jake’s room and shuts the door behind him. “What happened? You look mad and you’re still wearing your chef’s jacket.”

Glancing down at himself, Jake realizes that Tom’s right. He usually takes off his jacket as soon as he’s home, but he’s glad he kept it on. He has the right to wear this jacket! He’s a very good chef and just because Liying and Chef Mitra don’t appreciate his talents doesn’t mean he’s not worthy of this jacket.

“Jake? What happened?”

“Chef Mitra fired me, that’s what happened.”

Tom’s eyebrows fly up. “What?! Are you serious?”

Jake lets out an ugly laugh. “Oh, yes. She decided I wasn’t performing adequately and fired me without giving me a chance to improve.”

Blinking at him, Tom looks shocked and confused. “What happened?!”

“I got a little distracted during service and I wasn’t performing very well, but Chef Huang decided to push me out of my station.”

“Doesn’t the pastry station belong to both of you?”

Jake clenches his jaw. Why is Tom focusing on stupid semantics? “That doesn’t matter! I was doing my plates and she didn’t give me a chance to finish them. She just took them over.”

Tom’s still frowning, but he looks uncertain about this whole thing. That’s…not the reaction Jake was expecting. He’s been waiting for Tom to join him in his righteous anger at the situation…but that’s not happening. Well, it’s probably because Tom hasn’t heard the full story yet. “And when I got upset at Chef Huang, Chef pulled me into the pantry and accused me of performing too poorly to be in the kitchen and she fired me.”

Tom presses his lips together and he looks worried. Once again, that’s not the reaction Jake was hoping for and he stares at Tom expectantly.

“Jake…why weren’t you doing well during service? What happened?”

Letting out an annoyed sigh because Tom is—once again—focusing on irrelevant details, Jake clenches his jaw to keep his temper in check. He shouldn’t yell at Tom for being a bit stupid today. Maybe he’s tired from his session. Looks like he’ll have to spell it out for him. “I got distracted when I saw the chef’s table.”

“Why? Who was sitting there?”

“Nobody, that’s the point. That’s where my parents used to sit. Anyway, that’s irrelevant. Yes, I got a bit distracted, but Chef Huang didn’t give me a chance to recover and then Chef Mitra fired me. It was completely unfair.”

“…How long were you distracted?”

Jake’s really not liking Tom’s tone. In fact, Jake’s not liking Tom’s entire attitude about this. He should be angry on Jake’s behalf, not asking stupid questions. Why is he even asking these questions?! Jake’s told him all the relevant information!

Then it hits him out of nowhere. He knows what Tom’s doing. Tom’s asking questions because he’s trying to distract Jake from noticing that Tom’s not on his side. Tom’s on Liying and Chef Mitra’s side! Reeling back with shock, Jake stares at him. “You agree with them. You think I don’t deserve to be on the line.”

Tom frowns. “I never said that. I’m just asking—”

“You’re asking stupid questions that have no relevance! I already told you that they treated me completely unfairly and you’re taking their side!”

“Jake, you’re the one who always insists on your pastry assistants getting fired if they do even one little thing wrong. Being a hypocrite isn’t like you so I’m trying to understand the situation.”

“A hypocrite?! You really think I was performing that poorly?! I got distracted for a few seconds, that’s all!”

Tom looks bewildered. “I don’t think anything about how you did in the kitchen! I have no idea what you did and didn’t do in the kitchen because I wasn’t there! But I really don’t think Chef Mitra would fire you if you just got distracted by the chef’s table for two seconds.”

That confirms Jake’s suspicions. Tom’s on Chef’s side. Tom thinks Jake’s pathetic and an embarrassment and he doesn’t deserve a place in the kitchen. Well, that’s fine. Tom’s entitled to his opinion. But Jake doesn’t have to put up with people who think so poorly of him. He might not have done well during service today, but that’s no reason to dismiss him outright. He deserves a second chance and anybody who doesn’t agree doesn’t deserve to be in Jake’s life. That’s what his parents would insist on. Clenching his jaw, Jake crosses his arms over his chef’s jacket. “I want you to leave.”

“What?!”

Stepping back from Tom to give him a clear path to the door, Jake lifts his chin, determined not to let Tom see how much his betrayal has hurt him. If Tom doesn’t think Jake’s worthy of being in his life, then Jake will happily part ways with him. “If that’s what you think about me, then I don’t want you around.”

“…I never told you what I think about you! I’m trying to—”

Jake’s rapidly losing his temper again. “It’s clear as day what you think! You’re on Chef’s side in this whole thing and all of you are being unfair and disrespectful to me and I deserve better than that!”

“I—”

“I’m not interested in what you have to say! I told you to leave!”

Tom’s gone pale and he’s staring at Jake with wide eyes. Silence rings around them for a few seconds, until Tom gives him a quiet nod. “Okay. If you wanna be by yourself tonight, I understand. We can talk about this again tomorrow and—”

“We’re not talking about this tomorrow or the day after or in a week!”

“Okay…then when—”

This idiot really needs to have things spelled out tonight, doesn’t he? “You don’t get it, do you? I’m no longer interested in anything you have to say. It’s clear that our involvement with each other has been a mistake and I no longer wish to associate with you.”

Tom looks stunned and also hurt.

Seeing that pain on his face briefly makes Jake pause. He hates the idea of hurting Tom. He loves Tom and he doesn’t want to hurt him. But really, Tom’s brought this on himself. He’s the one who decided Jake isn’t a good chef anymore and he’s the one who agreed that firing him was the right decision. Jake doesn’t want somebody in his life who has such little faith in him. Even if he loves that person. _Especially_ if he loves that person.

“You…really want me to leave? For good?” Tom whispers, his voice frail.

Clenching his jaw and clinging to the last bit of strength he has, Jake keeps his back straight. He won’t give Tom the satisfaction of seeing him crumble. No doubt, it’ll hurt like hell once Tom’s gone, but it’s for the best. “Yes. I no longer want to associate with you in any way.”

Pressing his lips together, Tom stares at him, his eyes pleading with Jake to reconsider, but Jake stays firm. His parents are already ashamed at him for what he’d done tonight. He’s not going to add to that shame by clinging to a person who thinks he’s worthless.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Tom finally nods. “Okay. I think…”

Jake prepares to interrupt Tom if he tries to bring up more irrelevant information, but to his surprise, Tom falls silent on his own. Eventually, Tom shakes his head. “Okay. I’ll leave you alone.”

“Good.”

Jake keeps his back straight and his chin up while his crossed arms dig into his chest.

Slowly, Tom turns and walks out of Jake’s room and the door shuts behind him, leaving Jake alone.


	17. Chapter 17

Once Tom’s gone, Jake floats on his feeling of righteousness for a few minutes as he locks the door. Marching through his room, he sits back on his couch, anger still simmering through him. Stupid Tom. He’s supposed to love Jake and be on Jake’s side, not betray him like this.

But as Jake’s anger fades, he starts noticing the silence around him. He’s become so accustomed to Tom being around that being on his own feels strange. There’s no movement around him. He’s completely alone.

And Jake comes to the stunning realization that this is what the rest of his life will be like. He no longer has a job. He no longer has Tom. He no longer has his parents. He has nobody.

He’s completely alone.

That realization is stunning and frightening. His skin crawls and he stares around his living room at the dark television and the scenery outside the balcony. This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all! He doesn’t want to be alone. It’s much worse now because he’s become accustomed to having Tom around all the time. In fact, he’s gotten spoiled. He had his parents and Tom around constantly—either physically or just a phone call away. At work, he had tons of noise and people around him. The silence is scaring him, but it’s also making him sad. He doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life alone with nobody to talk to.

He can’t believe that he’ll have to fall asleep without Tom tonight. He’ll never get to kiss Tom again or be hugged by him. Could it have just been a few hours ago that they were hugging and kissing and Tom was smiling at him and telling him he’ll do great during service? How has Jake lost all of that in just a few hours?! He can’t understand why Tom’s feelings towards him have changed so suddenly.

Wrapping his arms around himself, Jake’s face crumbles and tears start running down his face. He misses Tom so much!

But that’s not the worst of it. Whenever he encounters a situation in life that he’s struggling with, his first reaction is always to call his parents for advice. Staring at his dark phone lying on the coffee table, he realizes that’s no longer an option. He lets out a choked sob and squeezes his eyes shut as pain overwhelms him. He can’t call his parents for advice. He’ll never be able to call them again.

Reaching out shaking hands, he picks up the photo he’d turned upside down earlier and pulls it onto his lap, staring at his smiling mom and dad. “I need to call you and I need you to help me,” he chokes out in a whisper, tracing shaking fingers over their smiling faces. “I don’t want to be alone. I’m scared and I don’t know what to do. I lost Tom and I don’t know why and I got fired and I don’t know how to fix it. I need you to be here so you can help me.”

Unfortunately, his pleas are greeted with silence as he stares at the photograph. That silence adds to the silence in the rest of his world, which only makes Jake’s pain and fear grow as he sobs.

* * *

“He’s still in a lot of pain and he’s probably not thinking clearly,” Tom’s mom tells him.

Tom sighs into his phone, staring at his television as he lounges in bed. “I know. I get it, but I wish I knew how to help him. I upset him but I have no idea why. I didn’t do or say anything that could have caused him to react the way he did.”

“Grief does strange things to people’s minds. His reaction might have nothing to do with you or his mind may be twisting things around. He needs to talk to somebody about what’s going on in his head or things might get worse.”

Tom snorts. “I think I’m the last person he wants to talk to right now.”

“Does he have any other friends or family he could turn to?”

Smiling sadly, Tom’s heart squeezes. “No. He always talked to his parents.”

“Oh.” His mom sighs. “The poor boy. Well, I’d give him a little space. Maybe text him in a few days and let him know that you’re here if he needs your support, but let him calm down.”

The thought of leaving Jake to suffer on his own makes Tom’s gut clench uncomfortably, but Jake had been so angry at him that pushing himself into Jake’s life when he doesn’t want him there would only make things worse. That’s the last thing Tom wants. “Okay, I’ll do that. I hope we’ll get past this. I hate seeing him in pain, but it’s much worse not being there to help him.”

“I know. But in any case, you went above and beyond for him, honey. You were such a wonderful support to him and even if he’s not thinking clearly right now, I know he appreciated what you did for him.”

Sighing, Tom glances at the wall behind his bed. Just on the other side of that wall, Jake’s sitting alone, angry and sad, drowning in grief. But his mom’s right. As long as Jake doesn’t want his help, there’s nothing Tom can do.

* * *

Jake spends the rest of the night on the couch. He hates the idea of sleeping in his bed when Tom’s not there. He knows he’ll forget that Tom’s not there and he’ll constantly be waking up and getting reminded of Tom not wanting to be there anymore and that would be torture.

The silence continues bothering him, so he turns on the television and that nicely shatters the heavy quiet that’s spread throughout the room. But that doesn’t change the fact that Jake’s alone.

He spends hours alternating between crying and raging at the situation until he falls asleep from exhaustion.

* * *

The next morning, Jake decides he’s being ridiculous. Sitting around and crying over his parents won’t bring them back and raging at Tom, Chef Mitra and Liying betraying him won’t make that situation any better either.

It occurs to him that his parents would be appalled at his behavior. He’s spent hours on his couch, not eating or doing anything else productive. That’s not who he was raised to be. He lives in a beautiful hotel and he never has to worry about having a good place to sleep and decent food to eat, so wasting all of those things by sitting around and being lazy is inexcusable.

He decides that the first course of action is to put Tom and his former co-workers behind him. He doesn’t need them. He’s a talented chef and he can easily find work somewhere else. All he has to do is make sure his skills are top-notch and then he can start looking for work.

In any case, he’s still embarrassed about his poor performance in the kitchen last night. He’d humiliated his parents, along with his family name and his parents’ legacy. That can’t be allowed to continue. Even if he doesn’t find a new job right away, he needs to prove to himself—and his parents—that he still has the talents that he’d spent years perfecting. Regardless of his job situation, he needs to do a much better job of honoring his parents’ memory. He wants to make them proud again. And he’s going to start with that right away.

He’s starving, so he decides the best way to get his new life direction on track is to make himself breakfast. Heading into the kitchen, he decides to make himself eggs benedict. He has all the ingredients and this will be an excellent opportunity to prove that he still has the skills he needs to be a good chef and make his parents proud.

Before opening the fridge, he takes out all the equipment he’ll need. He wants to give himself the best opportunity to do well, so he pulls out his favorite chef’s knife. It’s a beautiful tool that his parents had given him as a present a few years ago. It’s perfectly balanced and can cut through pretty much anything Jake wants it to. Wrapping his hand around the dark handle, Jake smiles down at it as the kitchen light reflects off the shiny blade. There’s no way he’ll embarrass his parents when he’s using his favorite knife.

Deciding to give himself the best chance possible, he takes his time sharpening the knife and making sure it’s ready to work hard. Once he’s satisfied that his knife is ready, he gathers the rest of his tools. Then it’s time to get his ingredients.

Turning to the fridge, he pulls it open, ready to collect the ingredients he needs for his hollandaise sauce…

…but the moment he looks into his fridge, he sees his dad’s birthday cake.

A shiver races down his back and he reacts on instinct—slamming the door shut again. He’s numb from shock and keeps his hand pressed against the door handle, as if he’s scared that the door will jump open again. A part of him knows he’s being ridiculous, but there’s a voice screaming in his head that opening the fridge door and letting in warm air will ruin his dad’s birthday cake and Jake can’t do that. That’s not right. Ruining his dad’s birthday cake would be disrespectful. But his stomach growls, reminding him how hungry he is.

And now he’s stuck in a dilemma.

Opening the fridge again might damage his dad’s birthday cake, so that can’t happen. But Jake needs food. He could order room service…

But no. He doesn’t want to deal with the hotel staff right now. They probably think Jake’s just as pathetic as Chef Mitra and Tom think he is, so Jake wants nothing to do with them. Besides, he’s being ridiculous. He has plenty of food in his room. He doesn’t need the fridge.

But before he has a chance to go to the pantry and find himself a replacement breakfast, he realizes just how badly he doesn’t want to see anybody else right now. Last night, being alone had upset him greatly, but today, it’s something he needs. If he’s going to focus on getting his cooking skills back up to par, he can’t be distracted by other people—especially people who might not believe in him and be detrimental to his progress.

It’s a good thing today is Chesa’s day off, but Jake realizes he needs to do much more to bring across the message that he doesn’t want any visitors. The first step is going to the front door and flicking on the ‘do not disturb’ light and making sure the safety latch and deadbolt are closed. The hotel staff can get past the deadbolt, but they’re only allowed to do that in an emergency.

Next, Jake grabs his phone and dials the front desk.

“Thank you for calling Hotel Seever, this is Cecilia speaking. How can I help you?”

“Hello, Cecilia. This is Jake Seever.”

“Oh! Hi, Jake. How can I help you?”

Time to really show his parents that he’s serious about making them proud again. “I want to add a complete privacy status to my room, please.”

He hears her typing. He knows she’s currently flagging his room in the computer system so no staff will try to enter or even knock on his door, no calls will get routed to his room and if anybody asks for him, the front desk staff have to say that Jake’s not at the hotel. “Of course. How long do you want to keep the status on for?”

“I’m not sure when I’ll want it to be removed, so please don’t put an end time in the system. I’ll let you know when I want the status removed.”

She hesitates. “Are you sure?”

Asking a question like that is against hotel policy, but she must be concerned. It’s not unusual for celebrities to request a complete privacy lock on their rooms, but they usually only stay for a few days. Her concern is touching and it makes Jake smile, but he needs to do this. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Alright. I’ve added the status into the system. Nobody will try to contact you until you ask for the status to be removed.”

Relief floods Jake. Now he’ll have all the time he needs to focus on what he needs to do. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you. Have a good day.”

“You too, Jake. Bye.”

After hanging up, Jake immediately calls Dean, the housekeeping supervisor. He explains to him that he’s added a privacy status to his room, but he wants Dean to ensure his room is still being added to Chesa’s ‘completed’ list—or whichever housekeeper does his floor—so they aren’t docked any pay. It wouldn’t be right for his decision to engage privacy protocols to impact other people’s incomes. Dean isn’t too happy to do it, but Jake pushes him a bit and he agrees to Jake’s request.

Once that’s done and Jake’s hung up the phone again, he can’t stop smiling. He’s almost ready to get to work.

But as he stares down at his cellphone, it occurs to him that he might get interrupted by phone calls coming to his direct line too and he doesn’t want to deal with that. On the bright side, there’s nothing he needs to deal with regarding his parents anymore. There’s a huge team of people who are being well paid to take care of all those issues. Jake comes to the sad realization that he no longer has anybody who he wants to hear from or _can_ hear from. At this point, his parents are the only ones who he would want to talk to and well…

His mind made up, Jake turns off his phone and drops it on the coffee table.

There. Now he’ll have peace and quiet to focus however long he wants. And since he’s kept the television turned on, there’s enough noise in the room that it’s no longer eerie, but the television won’t interrupt him. Smiling, Jake feels proud of himself for the first time since that terrible service last night. Time to get back to work.

But once he’s back in the kitchen, he’s left with the same dilemma he’d left behind earlier. He can’t use any ingredients from the fridge because opening the door will lead to his dad’s birthday cake being ruined. So it’s off to the pantry. He decides to deal with two problems at once. He’s hungry but he also wants to practice his knife skills. Well, the perfect way to do both things is to make himself some spaghetti.

Once the pasta’s done and he’s turned a can of tomato paste into delicious sauce, he’s well on his way to accomplishing his first goal. But he needs to work on his second goal too, which he decides will involve cutting every single spaghetti strand into pieces that are the exact same size.

Using tongs to pull out a handful of spaghetti strands from the bowl he’d put them in, he transfers the pasta to a cutting board and carefully untangles them and lines them up. Then he reaches into his jacket pocket—it’s very useful that he’s still wearing his chef’s jacket—and pulls out his trusty ruler.

Looking down at it, Jake can’t help but feel a bit ashamed at how badly he’d let the ruler down yesterday. The ruler had been doing its job but Jake hadn’t. “I’ll do better today, I promise,” Jake tells the ruler, giving it a smile.

Grabbing his beautiful and newly sharpened knife in one hand and holding his ruler in the other, he places the ruler next to the first strand of spaghetti. He decides to make four inch long cuts. That’ll still leave the strands long enough to make them interesting to eat, but it’ll allow him to make about two cuts per spaghetti strand. Plenty of opportunity to practice.

Bending over the cutting board, Jake places the ruler at the start of the strand and measures out four inches. Moving carefully, he slices through the strand at exactly four inches. When one cut’s done, he moves the cut strand to the side and slides his ruler over to make the next four inch piece. That’s perfect too and it joins the other four inch piece. The leftover bit is roughly 2 and 1/4 inches long, which makes Jake pause. There’s no way to make it a four inch piece. Should he discard it? But no, he doesn’t like the idea of wasting so much food. This is just for practicing his knife skills.

After going back and forth about it, he decides to make the piece two inches long. That way, it’s still a nice whole number and Jake doesn’t mind pushing the leftover 1/4 inch piece to the side. The two inch strand goes into its own pile, so everything will stay organized.

Looking down at his tiny piles of spaghetti strands, Jake grins. “I’m doing good, mom and dad. See? I’m not some talentless hack like Chef thought I was.”

Feeling really good about how things are going, Jake reaches for the next spaghetti strand.

* * *

Everything goes well until Jake’s hunger starts to interfere. He stays focused on his cutting until he’s about halfway through the spaghetti pile he’d cooked, but then his stomach reminds him how hungry he is. When he’s done the next strand, he puts his knife down and stares at his piles of spaghetti. He still has a huge pile of uncut strands to do…but he’s so hungry.

But does he really have to finish cutting them all before he gets to eat? The answer to that is: no. He’s earned the right to eat the piles he’s created. He can finish the rest later. Happy with his decision, he grabs a bowl and transfers his four inch spaghetti strands into it. Adding a spoonful of tomato sauce on top, he sticks a fork into it and swirls it around. Eating the first mouthful is very satisfying. As he chews, he feels very proud of the fact that he’s eating four inch strands that are all the exact same size.

He’s still starving after eating his little bowl, so he eats the two inch pile too. He eyes the little pile of random sized leftover pieces, but he doesn’t feel right about eating them. After having eaten the beautifully cut pieces, it seems like an insult to his stomach to put the random sized ones in there.

No, that’s not happening. He’s still hungry, so the solution is to make more perfectly cut pieces that he’ll be proud to eat. He continues measuring, cutting and eating until he’s made it through his entire spaghetti pile, stopping from time to time to drink water so he stays hydrated. While he’s eating his final bowl of two inch strands, he happens to glance at his watch and he’s shocked to see that it’s nearly 5 pm.

Blinking, Jake raises his eyebrows and stares around his kitchen. He can’t believe nearly the entire day’s gone by already! But that’s alright. He feels very accomplished and he’s not nearly as hungry as he was this morning, so this day has been very well spent.

In fact, since it’s evening already, this is a good time to make dinner. Once again, the fridge is off limits, but Jake’s had so much success with his pasta cutting and eating so far that he decides to give himself a new challenge. He’ll make penne pasta and cut open the tubes and turn them into perfect 1/4 inch squares. He’ll have to measure every side multiple times to ensure they’re perfect and that’ll be a great way to increase the level of difficulty.

After making a batch of penne pasta and pouring it into a bowl next to him, he sharpens his knife again and then he’s ready to go. Taking out the first piece of pasta, he holds it vertically and carefully cuts through one side, allowing him to unroll and flatten it. Staring down at it, he realizes he’ll end up with a lot of little cut-off bits, and based on his previous experience, he won’t want to eat them. That means he’ll have to cut very carefully and get as many 1/4 inch squares out of each piece as possible.

The challenge excites him and he eagerly bends over the little piece of pasta with his knife and ruler. Measuring the entire piece, he figures out he can get four little squares out of each one. Getting to work, he slowly measures and cuts the first 1/4 inch square. That goes well, but when he’s re-measuring it, he realizes one of the sides is missing 1/16 of an inch.

Making a face, Jake lets out an annoyed sigh and shoves the tiny square into his discard pile. But he realizes this is a good thing. The spaghetti challenge was clearly too easy for him. This new challenge is actually a challenge and he’ll have to work hard and earn every bite. Frowning with intense concentration, Jake bends over the cutting board again and gets himself lined up, ready to try again. Thankfully, the second square has four perfect 1/4 inch sides and Jake triumphantly puts on the side of the cutting board where his acceptable pieces will go.

Staring at the little square sitting there, his eyes shift over to the enormous pile of pasta still waiting in the bowl next to him. His stomach is aching from hunger and he’s sorely tempted to just shove a handful of uncut pasta right into his mouth…but that would destroy the good progress he’s made and would disappoint his parents again.

Taking a deep breath, Jake clenches his jaw. “Come on, Jake. You can do this. Focus and work efficiently and you’ll have a nice pile of perfect squares to eat in no time.”

He can do this. He can absolutely do this. Filled with renewed determination, Jake returns his focus to measuring and cutting. Deciding that dwelling on his hunger and useless emotions was distracting, he pushes everything out of his mind except the piece of pasta he’s currently measuring and cutting. When he finds that he’s constantly looking at his watch to check how long he’s taking, he abruptly takes his watch off and shoves it into the nearest drawer.

“No distractions,” he firmly reminds himself before picking up his knife again.

* * *

But no matter how determined he is, this new cutting challenge isn’t going well. He has no idea how long he’s been at it, but he’d had to turn on the kitchen light a while ago so he could see. His pasta’s getting dry and he had to toss them back into warm water to soften them back up again.

He’s also very hungry. Unlike with the spaghetti, he’d stopped to eat the little handful of perfect squares that he’d made when they were barely more than a mouthful. He hadn’t even bothered with the tomato sauce, which had congealed in the sauce pan ages ago.

But eating his little mouthfuls had been just as satisfying as eating the perfectly cut strands had been and he’d washed them down with water. He’d been so proud of every little square he’d cut and his pile of discarded rejects hadn’t grown alarmingly large, which is fantastic. But that’s where the good news ends.

Along with still being hungry, he’s also exhausted. He’s spent hours standing in one place, bent over the cutting board. His hands are aching from holding the heavy knife and clutching the ruler for hours, especially his right hand that’s holding his knife. But these are all clearly signs that he’s let his skills lapse. He’s a damn chef. He shouldn’t have problems standing in a kitchen or holding a knife. That’s ridiculous.

But he also acknowledges that pushing himself too hard on his first day won’t yield good results. He’s hungry and tired and while both those things are his fault—if he’d done a better job cutting the penne pasta, he could have eaten and sat down much earlier—his progress will go backwards if he forces himself to continue.

Deciding to leave the rest of this pasta to be cut tomorrow, he covers the bowl with plastic wrap, throws away the reject pieces and cooks himself a bowl of oatmeal for dinner. He can’t use milk—because that’s in the fridge—but water works just as well. Deciding what to add into the oatmeal is difficult. He wants to add almonds, but chopping up hard things like nuts into perfect pieces takes forever and his right hand aches at the thought. So he cuts a banana into nice 1/4 inch slices. He only screws up a few times so he gets to put more than 3/4 of the banana onto his oatmeal, which is fantastic. The rest of the pieces have to be thrown away because eating them would be an insult to his stomach and his parents’ memory.

Sitting down on the couch after his long day of work and cradling his bowl of oatmeal makes Jake sigh with relief. His right hand is aching so he switches the spoon to his left hand, but he’s so hungry that he’s shoveling spoonfuls of oatmeal into his mouth within seconds as he stares blankly at the television that’s been turned on the entire day. The voices of the people on the machine wash over Jake and he slumps against the couch.

Listening to the droning coming from the television and eating his oatmeal makes him drowsy in no time. The couch is so soft and comfortable and Jake barely manages to put his empty bowl on the coffee table before he’s curling up and falling asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Jake wakes up refreshed and ready to continue working. His hand is still a little sore, but Jake’s sure his hand will get used to it. After all, he’s a chef and holding a knife is something he’s supposed to be doing effortlessly.

He’s also really hungry. But again, that’s his own fault. If he would have done a better job cutting the pasta, he could have eaten more. So the plan for today is to do lots of good cutting. But starting the day hungry won’t work well, so he needs to eat breakfast first. He can’t eat any eggs or bacon because those are in the fridge. But when he looks through the pantry, he finds a package of crackers and a jar of peanut butter. That’s a good start. He grabs an apple out of his fruit bowl and sharpens his knife, ready to get started.

His hand complains as soon as he wraps his hand around the handle, but he clenches his jaw and ignores it. Cutting the apple in half, he cores both halves and puts them face down on his cutting board and pulls out his ruler.

After cutting off the ends of each half, he carefully measures and cuts 1/4 inch slices from the apple. He only makes a few mistakes—which end up being thrown out with the end pieces—and he ends up with a nice pile of apple slices. Feeling proud of himself, he makes himself a nice breakfast plate of peanut butter topped crackers and eats them with his apple slices.

Once he’s finished, it’s time to get back to work. When his eyes land on the sauce pan filled with the congealed tomato sauce from yesterday, his earlier good mood vanishes. He forgot to clean up last night! That’s completely unacceptable. Sighing with annoyance at himself, he empties the contents of the pan into the trash and washes the pot. His hand aches as he’s holding the pot handle but he refuses to let himself switch to his left hand. He deserves this little bit of pain for having forgotten to clear down last night.

When the pot’s drying, he checks the rest of the kitchen and reassures himself that everything is neat and organized. Now he’s ready to get back to cutting his pasta. His bowl of pasta had sat on the counter all night and despite the plastic wrap, it’s a little dry but a quick soak in boiling water gets the pasta softened up enough.

Once he has a bowl of penne pasta ready, he grabs his knife and ruler and takes out his first piece of pasta. Slitting it open, he flattens it and carefully measures and cuts out his first 1/4 inch square. That goes well and after putting it aside, he cuts the next piece.

* * *

Unfortunately, things go much worse than yesterday. He’s tired and still a little hungry, but it’s his hand that’s the big problem. The dull ache in his right hand is slowly getting worse and the rising pain is distracting him. His back also hurts from staying bent over to look at his ruler and he has to take frequent breaks to stretch and drink water. Unfortunately, the small breaks do little to help his hand.

Despite his best efforts, his reject pile is growing at the same rate as his good pile and after what feels like hours, he has to stop to eat a few more crackers and peanut butter. He’s so annoyed at himself that his good pile is growing so slowly, which means he’s still constantly battling his hunger.

His hand is shaking a little as he’s cutting, which makes it even more difficult to measure properly. The fact that his hand is doing much worse rather than better just annoys Jake. After making another bad square, Jake slams the knife down. “Damn it!”

He can’t even cut stupid squares out of pasta! No wonder Chef Mitra fired him. He’s not fit to be in his own kitchen, never mind a professional kitchen. His parents would be so ashamed of him!

Glaring down at his aching hand, he clenches his jaw. He can’t believe his stupid hand is letting him down so badly. Well, there’s only one thing to do. He has to switch to his left hand. It’s a sign of weakness and incompetence, but he has no choice. He has to improve the quality of his work.

Unfortunately, switching to his left hand doesn’t improve his results. He’s never held his heavy chef’s knife with his left hand and it feels strange. His hand doesn’t feel at ease holding it, and it takes him forever to line up the blade properly and do the cuts. His progress is ridiculously slow and he still ends up making more bad squares than good ones.

After slamming the knife down again, he fills a glass with water and drinks it slowly as he tries to come up with a solution. He has to come up with something. His stomach is churning, partly from hunger and partly from the knowledge that he’s disrespecting his parents’ memories with his poor performance. What’s worse is that the whole thing is Jake’s fault. Nobody else is interfering with his cutting, nobody else is sabotaging him—it’s just Jake and his own incompetence. He needs to find a solution!

After eating a few more crackers with peanut butter, Jake carefully analyzes the situation to figure out what’s stopping him from being more successful. He’s using high quality equipment. Nobody’s distracting him. He has plenty of light and he’s not running out of pasta. No, the problem is purely with Jake.

If Jake didn’t know how to use a knife properly, than that could explain his failures. But he _does_ know how to use a knife. That means he keeps circling around to the same conclusion over and over again. He has the skills, he’s just not performing at the level he should be. So Jake needs to find a way to motivate himself properly. To do that, he’ll need to set exact parameters for himself. Having the goal of needing to finish the rest of this pasta batch before he goes to bed is a good first step. But he needs to have something even bigger.

Staring down at his knife and cutting board, Jake finally gets a good idea. He’ll set himself a goal of doing five good squares. If he does five good squares, he can take a five minute break and eat some crackers and his five squares. But if he screws up any of the five squares, he can’t stop unless he’s done ten good ones. If he does that well, he can set a goal of five again. But if he can’t do ten good ones, he’ll have to do fifteen. The idea of having to do that many good squares in a row is scary and Jake thinks that’s the motivation he needs.

Feeling newly determined, he picks up his knife, ignores his aching hand and lines up his ruler.

* * *

His new method does improve his performance. After doing a few good squares, he gets really anxious at the thought of screwing up the last of the five and having to start all over with ten so he’s able to focus much better. He ends up doing three solid sets of five and taking the five minute breaks for eating, and drinking water in between works very well.

Then he screws up on the fourth square of his new set and his heart plummets as he looks down at the slightly misshapen square. His first reaction is to come up with excuses for why he screwed up the fourth square…but he realizes that’s part of why he’s been doing so badly and embarrassing his parents. No more excuses.

If he screwed up, he has to accept his punishment and get back on track. So he moves the bad square over to the reject pile and gets started on the first of the ten perfect squares he has to do.

He ends up getting through the ten squares and when he manages to follow that up by doing four sets of five perfect squares—including taking breaks in between and eating a few crackers with peanut butter—Jake knows this new method is exactly what he needs.

It’s a struggle, but Jake finally gets to the last piece of pasta. Looking at the empty bowl is a relief, but as he’s working on the last piece, he realizes he’ll get four pieces out of it but his sets require five squares. He can’t end the day with an incomplete set. But the only solution is to make more pasta. But if he makes another batch of pasta, he’ll have to get through that whole batch too. His reaction is to whine about it…

…but that’s a pitiful reaction. He needs at least one more piece of pasta to finish his set of five. But he shouldn’t leave that piece of pasta with three squares left in it. That means he’ll need another piece of pasta to get the remaining two squares and finish the new set... but then he’ll have two squares left in that piece to start a new set and he’ll have to finish that set too. Trying to do the mental math of how many more pieces of pasta he’ll need to end up having finished all the pasta as well as his sets of five proves to be an impossible task, but that’s not acceptable.

He’s tired, his hand hurts and he’s mentally whining, and none of those things are characteristics that a good chef should have. So really, he should make another big batch of pasta and he’ll eventually reach a point where he’s finished his sets along with a full piece of pasta. That’s the sensible thing to do.

In fact, based on his ridiculously large reject pile, he needs a lot more practice anyway. Doing one more batch probably won’t do it. Luckily, he has lots of pasta left in the pantry and that gives him a new idea. If he get through all of his pasta and ends up not doing too many sets that are more than five _and_ he ends up finishing a set along with his pasta batch, he’ll finally be satisfied that he’s practiced enough and he can move onto something else.

Happy with that plan, he finishes cutting four good squares out of his last piece of pasta, eats them and gets the kitchen cleaned up. When that’s done, he makes himself a celebratory bowl of oatmeal for having done a relatively good job today and heads to the couch to go to bed.


	18. Chapter 18

Sitting on his couch, Tom stares at his television without caring what’s playing on it. It’s been three days since his fight with Jake and despite constantly checking his phone—even during sessions when a client isn’t watching—Jake hasn’t called or texted him.

But now that three days have passed, Tom thinks he’s given Jake enough time to cool down from their argument. He’s pretty sure that Jake hadn’t seriously wanted to break up with him and he’s hopefully missing Tom as much as Tom’s missing him.

After going back and forth over whether to call Jake or not, Tom finally decides to go for it. The worst that could happen is that Jake will tell Tom to go to hell and that’ll let Tom know where they stand. But if there’s even a tiny chance that Jake’s willing to let Tom remain part of his life, Tom will take it. Even if they go back to being friends, that’s better than not having Jake in his life. Tom would even take Jake back as a client. That would break his heart and be tough, but Tom misses Jake so badly that he’s willing to have Jake in his life in whatever form Jake wants.

His mind made up, Tom calls Jake’s phone and anxiously waits for him to pick up. Unfortunately, the phone only rings once before Jake’s voice mail picks up.

“Fuck,” Tom mutters. Jake’s phone’s off.

But before his nerves can abandon him, Tom decides to leave Jake a message. Right before the beep, Tom clears his throat and tries to aim for a tone that’s hopeful but not pitiful. “Hey, Jake. It’s me. It’s been a couple of days and I just wanted to see how you were doing. I’m sorry if I said or did something to upset you the other day, but I honestly didn’t mean to hurt you. I still don’t understand why you got so upset so I’m hoping that we can meet up and maybe talk about it. I know you’re still in a lot of pain and you’re dealing with a lot, but I’d really like to be there for you, if you want me there. If you really did want to break up with me, I understand and I’ll respect your decision. But I’m a little unclear about where we stand right now. I…” Tom takes a deep breath. “I love you and I’m really worried about you. If there’s anything I can do to have you back in my life, I’ll do it.”

Tom can’t think of anything else to say, so after an awkward pause, Tom lets Jake know that he’s willing to meet with him any day, anytime, anywhere. Then he tells Jake again that he loves him and hopes he’ll hear from him soon. After hanging up, Tom takes a deep breath and stares at the television.

That’s as far as he can go. Now, the ball’s in Jake’s court.

* * *

It’s a good thing he has lots of pasta left because Jake’s performance continues being average. Sometimes he’ll be able to do a few good sets of five, but it’s happening more frequently that he has to do sets of ten or fifteen before he finally succeeds and gets to go back to his sets of five.

His hand is hurting worse every single day. The pain is dull and throbbing all the time now, even when he’s trying to sleep. It keeps waking him up, which is annoying and leaves him tired throughout the day. He’s been taking pain medication, but they make him drowsy. He compromises by taking the pain medication before he goes to sleep on the couch, but he doesn’t allow himself to take them during the day when they’ll make him too drowsy to focus.

During the day, he’s forced to hold his hand under cold water to numb it multiples times and that helps a little. He’d considered pulling an ice pack out of the freezer, but the freezer is right above the fridge and he’s convinced that opening it might damage his dad’s birthday cake, so that’s not an option.

Being exhausted results in him making more mistakes and the first time his cutting total reaches twenty, Jake wants to cry and throw his cutting board across the kitchen. His back hurts from constantly bending over and he’s also really hungry. He’s on his last package of crackers and he’s almost done his jar of peanut butter so he’d started rationing them a bit. Once he’s done with his pasta project, he’s planning to reward himself by order a bunch of food that doesn’t need to be refrigerated, but he can’t do that until he’s done the pasta.

Unfortunately, he ends up making so many mistakes that he doesn’t often get his five minute breaks or chances to eat, so even if he had an unlimited amount of food, he wouldn’t have time to eat a lot.

The day when he hits 35 for the first time, he gets really upset with himself and almost bursts into tears. Doing 35 perfect squares will be so damn difficult and he knows it’s going to take him hours of concentration. His hand is hurting so badly, his back is aching and he’s also so damn hungry. Knowing he won’t get to eat or take a break for hours still is very upsetting.

Staring down at his cutting board and his shaking hand that’s weakly clutching the knife, Jake really wants to give up. But then he’d be disappointing himself and his parents and that’s something he can’t live with. But if he continues cutting when he’s this upset, he’ll just make more mistakes and his total will reach 40 or even more.

He longingly looks at his box of crackers and the nearly-empty jar of peanut butter sitting next to him, but he’ll feel way too guilty and mad at himself if he ignores the rules he’s been following so diligently and eats despite having to do 35 perfect squares first. But he does need a break. He doesn’t deserve one and he’s weak and incompetent for needing one, but he needs a break.

In fact, when he glances down at his filthy chef’s jacket, he realizes he could use a shower too. He can’t remember how long he’s been wearing the same clothes or how long it’s been since his last shower, so it’s definitely time. He should also brush his teeth. It feels like it’s been ages since he’s done that too.

Wandering into his bedroom, he longingly stares at his soft, comfortable bed. But he hasn’t earned the right to sleep there. Maybe he’ll feel that he’s earned it when he’s finished the pasta project. Definitely not when he’s reached a disappointing 35. Jesus.

Stripping off his clothes, he wanders into the bathroom. The only time he’s been in the bathroom in the past while has been to use the toilet and it’s nice walking into the rest of his bathroom. But using the toilet keeps him close to the door and going all the way to the shower means Jake has to pass by the large mirror on the wall…

…and when he’s walking past the mirror and sees his reflection out of the corner of his eye, he’s so tired that seeing a glimpse of curly brown hair immediately makes him think he’s seeing his mother. Jerking his head over, Jake stares at where he thought he saw her…only to find himself staring at his own reflection in the mirror.

That small burst of hope that had lit up within him is quickly extinguished and as he stares at his reflection, he’s reminded for the thousandth time that he’ll never see his mom and dad again. As always, thinking about much he misses his parents makes the tears come and he squeezes his eyes shut and takes a shaky breath, trying to hold them back.

He wishes his parents were here so badly. They’d be supportive of Jake’s desire to improve his cooking skills. They wouldn’t get rid of him like Chef Mitra, Liying and Tom did. They’d be understanding and supportive.

But Jake’s actually a little glad that his parents aren’t here to see him like this. He’d reached 35 today, which is a new low and that’s embarrassing. He’s flushing just remembering that stupid number, so reaching that number when his parents are watching him would be a lot worse. Despite that, Jake’s heart still aches and he wishes he could call them. He’s desperate just to hear their voices one more time. He wouldn’t tell them about the 35 situation and they wouldn’t ever know.

But it doesn’t matter how desperately Jake wishes they were here. They’re not. They’re never going to be here again. He’s alone and all he can do is try to honor their memory as best as he can. Sniffling and wiping the never-ending flow of tears off his cheeks, Jake steps into the shower.

Getting himself clean does make him feel better, but his stupid hand and back are still hurting. His hand is especially bad, so Jake tries to only use his left hand for cleaning himself. Once he’s out of the shower, he brushes his teeth and scrubs his hair dry with a towel, before he goes into his bedroom and pulls on clean clothes, including a freshly washed and ironed chef’s jacket. Being clean and dressed in clean clothes makes him feel refreshed and ready to tackle the set of 35 squares.

* * *

To his surprise, he manages to get the 35 squares done and then he’s back to the wonderful sets of five. Unfortunately, the pain in his hand flares up during the set of 35 and he has to clench his jaw to push through the pain and finish before he allows himself to run his hand under cold water to numb it a bit. He’s really proud of himself for getting through the 35, but after just a few sets of five, he quickly ends up back at ten, then 15 and 20.

Refusing to give up, he turns on the kitchen light and keeps going. His back is aching, his hand is throbbing and a little swollen, he’s exhausted and hungry, but he refuses to give up. He can’t go to bed until he’s back down to five. He can’t let the day end on such a failure. He’d never ended a day without being at five and he’s not going to start now.

Despite his best efforts, his eyes start dropping shut on their own and his hands stop moving, which is completely unacceptable. Despite how delicious it feels to drift off to sleep right there in the kitchen, he hasn’t earned that right and he keeps having to jerk himself awake. His hand is barely able to hold the knife anymore and he keeps dropping it. While he’s working on a set of 40, he’s so tired that he fumbles to pick up the knife when his eyes are still closed, but a sudden, sharp flare of pain across his palm makes adrenaline surge through him and his eyes fly open.

He stares down at his palm, which is already bleeding. “Damn it!”

This is a new low for him! Picking up a knife when his eyes are closed?! What kind of a chef does that?!

Turning on the tap and grabbing paper towels, he runs his hand under soothing cold water and presses the paper towels to the cut. Thankfully, the cut isn’t very deep and the bleeding stops in a while and Jake goes to his first aid kit to put bandages on it. Unfortunately, he’d dripped blood on his cutting board and the counter, as well as the knife, so he has to wash everything before he can continue.

The adrenaline from the situation gives him a boost of focus and he’s actually grateful for his blunder because he can use this surge of energy to conquer the set he’s working on. The only downside is that he’ll have to start counting the set from the beginning because taking this break was necessary but it’s not an acceptable part of the routine.

But that’s okay. He can do this. When his tools are clean and dry, Jake takes out a new piece of pasta, grabs his knife and flattens the piece. His hand hurts even more than before, due to the knife blade pressing into the fresh cut. Ignoring the pain, Jake clenches his jaw and gets ready to make a perfect set of…

…

Shit.

He’s forgotten how many squares he has to do! Was it 35? 40? 20?

Shit!

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jake slams the knife down. “Damn it! You’re an idiot! A stupid, incompetent moron!”

He can’t believe he forgot what count he was at! Releasing an annoyed breath, Jake stares at the far wall and thinks about what to do. He can’t just cheat and go back to sets of five. That’s ridiculous and his parents would be ashamed of him. Well, his parents would already be ashamed of his performance in the past little while, but he can recover from this. But how?

The answer comes to Jake right away. If he can’t remember what the number was, he’ll just pick a number that was higher than any other sets he’s had to do so far. That way, he’ll be accounting for cutting himself because he’s an idiot, as well as all the time he’s wasted.

He decides to go with 50. But before he picks up his knife again, it occurs to him that he doesn’t want to risk a repeat of this embarrassment. Hurrying into the living room, he grabs a piece of paper and a pencil from the coffee table and brings it to the kitchen and writes ‘50’ on it. There. If he can’t trust his stupid brain to keep track of where he’s at, then his hand will do it instead.

Feeling slightly better about the situation, Jake grabs the knife, his ruler and carefully lines everything up. Ignoring the sharp pain from his hand and his back, as well as his hunger and exhaustion, Jake bends over the piece of pasta and gets ready to defeat the 50 perfect squares.

As he works, he refuses to let himself dwell on the soft couch and bowl of oatmeal that are waiting for him once he’s succeeded. He won’t let anything distract him. If he can do 50 squares, that’ll end this day on a very high note and it’ll make all his stupid blunders fade away.

* * *

Things continue to get worse rather than better. Jake doesn’t manage to do 50 squares. He doesn’t even manage to get half-way. He screws up on the seventh square, which forces his total to jump to 55.

The whole thing is rapidly spinning out of control and Jake is so ashamed and angry at himself, but he refuses to give up. He takes the time to cross out his old total and always writes the new one down, determined not to forget it again. But he barely manages to get a handful of good squares done before he’s screwing up, which constantly makes his total grow.

He’s exhausted, hungry, his hand is killing him and his total eventually reaches a ridiculous 115. That’s also when he notices there’s blood on his knife handle because the cut on his palm had opened up again and has bled through the bandages. Shaking, Jake struggles not to cry. Why can’t he do this?! He’d been doing so well and now his stupid total keeps growing.

As he stands there, he slowly accepts the fact that he has to give up and get some rest. He hates stopping on such a bad note, but what choice does he have? He needs to clean up his hand, he needs to eat and get some sleep. He doesn’t deserve any sleep or to eat, but he can’t continue like this.

Dropping the knife, he turns on the tap and holds his aching hand under the water. The cool water helps numb the pain a bit and wakes him up a little, which helps him think. Thinking is actually a little difficult. His brain is moving sluggishly and he spends a while just staring at the water streaming over his swollen, shaking hand before his brain starts moving.

His goal is to get back down to sets of five. That’s his only goal. So he should do everything possible to make sure he’s going to succeed at that. He can’t use the promise of eating and sleeping as rewards. He needs to be doing both activities regularly in order to do a better job. It feels like giving up and Jake hates himself and how badly he’s disappointing his parents, but he’s become so incompetent that he needs to lower his standards a bit.

After cleaning up his hand, he prepares a bowl of oatmeal and sits on the kitchen floor to eat it, too hungry to wait until he’s gotten to the couch. He’d debated putting a banana into his oatmeal, but that hadn’t sat right with him. On a day when he’s performed so poorly, he doesn’t deserve to eat something yummy like a banana. The bananas in his fruit basket are beginning to go brown but Jake realizes that could be additional motivation for him. If he wants to eat a piece of fruit, he’ll have to earn that right. And the fruit will eventually go bad, so Jake will have to work hard to earn the right to eat them quickly.

After washing the oatmeal bowl painfully slowly with his left hand and letting his throbbing right hand rest, he takes some pain medication and wanders towards the couch. As he stares at the soft, comfortable couch, his self-loathing grows deeper. This couch used to be his reward for doing a good job. He didn’t do a good job at all today, so how is it fair that he’s going to sleep on the couch? That’s ridiculous. It reminds him of the incompetent pastry assistants who would try to do as little work as possible while still demanding to be paid the same as the hard working ones. Jake always got rid of them, so it wouldn’t be fair to make an exception for himself.

But he does need to rest. He’ll end up falling asleep in the kitchen and probably stabbing himself by accident. But he doesn’t have to allow himself to enjoy the luxury of sleeping on the couch. That’s something he’ll get to do once he’s back down to sets of five.

Looking around the living room, Jake decides he might as well sleep right here, on the floor. Grabbing a cushion from the couch, Jake drops it on the ground and lies down. The floor isn’t very comfortable, but that’s exactly what Jake deserves. He can’t remember what his total is right now—thank goodness that he’d written it down on the paper in the kitchen—but it’s something terrible. He deserves to sleep on the uncomfortable floor.

Curling up on the floor, he rests his head on the cushion and stares at the television. Listening to the people on the screen talking is soothing and the sharp pain in his hand gradually dulls enough that Jake can close his eyes and drift off to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Jake wakes up with a sore back and neck. His hand is also hurting again, since the pain medication had worn off. But Jake had slept relatively well and he feels refreshed. Today, he’ll definitely get back down to sets of five and he’ll be able to sleep on the couch and eat a banana and Jake will feel proud of himself again.

Newly determined, Jake heads into the kitchen and rewraps his hand before eating the last of his crackers and peanut butter for breakfast. He’s about to grab one of the apples sitting in his fruit basket—but his hand freezes before he’s grabbed it and he remembers that the fruit is meant to be a reward.

Sighing sadly, Jake pulls his hand back and eats his crackers and peanut butter as he stares at the bowl of fruit. But as he’s eating, he gets angry with himself again. Look at him! Standing here, feeling sorry for himself because he’s being an incompetent moron. His parents would be ashamed of him.

Flushing, Jake clenches his jaw, determined to do better today. He’ll get his total back down to five and he’ll have earned the right to eat fruit and sleep on the couch. After breakfast, he reheats the pasta that’s waiting in his bowl, sharpens his knife, makes sure his ruler is clean and gets to work.

* * *

He doesn’t get down to five.

He doesn’t even get close.

Time loses all meaning. He just measures and cuts his 1/4 inch squares out of the flattened pasta pieces and keeps careful count of the good ones. As soon as he screws up, he mentally adds five to his count total and changes the total on his paper and starts again.

His right hand is hurting so badly that he can’t hold the knife for more than a few minutes before the pain nearly brings him to tears. Switching to his left hand is a must, but his total continues to get worse. He fumbles his knife a few more times and somehow ends up cutting himself two more times. Once on his right hand and once on his left. Now both of his hands are covered in bandages that Jake needs to regularly change because he keeps bleeding through them, but he doesn’t want to make the bandages too thick. That would impact his ability to hold his knife properly and he’s already having enough problems doing that.

Time slips by. He eats every good square as soon as he’s cut it out, munches on a few crackers and stops to drink water when his body complains about being thirsty. No matter what, he’s determined not to give up. He keeps going, even when he realizes he’s started crying from the pain at some point. When it gets too dark in the kitchen, he turns the light on and gives his stupid hand reprieves from time to time to run them under cold water.

But no matter how hard he tries, his total just keeps growing. By the time his eyes are slipping shut from exhaustion and the tears of frustration, pain and disappointment have been steadily streaming down his face, Jake’s total has reached 765.

As he stares at the papers on his counter—all of them covered in the numbers that have been crossed out after Jake’s failures—there’s a part of him that wants to give up. But he can’t. He’s already shamed his parents’ memory by doing such a bad job, but giving up would make the whole thing worse. He can do this. He just needs to keep trying.

He keeps working until his eyes slip shut for a while, which ends up being long enough for his left hand to lose its grip on the knife, which falls to the ground with a loud clatter. Jake’s eyes fly open and he stares down at the knife. It’s good that the knife didn’t stab him in the foot, but Jake’s too tired and in too much pain to really care.

Forced to admit defeat for another day, Jake wipes the tears off his face, makes himself a bowl of oatmeal and goes into the living room to sleep. He’s so tired that he’s not paying attention to what he’s doing and he automatically sits on the couch.

As soon as he’s sitting on the soft cushions, he remembers that he hasn’t earned the right to sit here, which makes him stand up with a frown. Damn it! Glaring down at the couch, Jake realizes how easily he could have forgotten about the rules and fallen asleep on the couch. He’s already very upset with himself, so adding to that isn’t productive.

In order to ensure that he won’t make this same mistake again, Jake decides to flip the couch upside down. It takes ages because he’s tired and in pain, but he doesn’t want tor risk making this same mistake again and getting even more upset with himself.

Once the couch has been flipped over, Jake smiles, feeling better about the situation. Now, his own fatigue and other shortcomings won’t result in him accidentally using a reward before he’s earned it. In fact…that gives him an idea. He’d almost grabbed an apple for his breakfast and that’s not good.

Going back into the kitchen, Jake takes his bowl of fruit, brings it into his bedroom and carefully puts the bowl on his bed. His mouth waters as he stares at the delicious fruit, but he forces himself to step back from it and walk out of the bedroom. He needs to use the fruit and the couch as rewards to improve his performance.

Happy with the decisions he’s made, he takes some pain medication and goes back to the living room to sleep.

* * *

A few days later—Jake has no idea how many days are slipping by, he just takes things one day at a time—Jake faces two new problems.

He’s run out of crackers and his peanut butter jar is empty. That was a sad development because he’d enjoyed the peanut butter and it’s also a sign that he’s still doing a very bad job. He can’t order new food until he’s back down to sets of five and at the rate he’s going, he might run out food before he reaches his goal. That thought is very depressing and Jake doesn’t know what he’ll do when that happens. He’ll need to get more food, but doing it when he hasn’t succeeded in his goal will make him hate himself even more and feel bitterly disappointed in himself.

The lack of crackers and peanut butter isn’t good, but he switches to cereal. He has a few boxes of cereal, so he’ll be fine for a while. He debates with himself whether to start with the sugary cereal or the plain ones, but he decides he shouldn’t put even more restrictions on himself. Allowing himself the small luxury of eating sugary cereal makes him feel a bit better about things, so that’s what he decides to do.

Unfortunately, he’s also run out of pain medication. He hadn’t been rationing the medication properly and he’s very angry with himself when he discovers that he’s run out. Not having any way to relieve the pain from his hands makes sleeping difficult, but Jake doesn’t have a choice.

He continues working hard, cutting squares of pasta and forcing his shaking, swollen hands to work towards his goal, stopping occasionally to eat his good squares of pasta and eat small handfuls of cereal. Unfortunately, his count total keeps growing. He’s currently at 2785 and sometimes Jake finds himself thinking that he’ll never achieve his goal. But having to accept his failure and letting his parents and himself down so badly isn’t something Jake is willing to consider at this point. He can still do this. If he works hard, he’ll eventually succeed and get his total back down to five. He can do this.

* * *

He runs out of oatmeal. But that’s okay. He eats cereal instead.

Sleeping is so difficult without his pain medication that he’s constantly waking up during the night and only sleeping in short burst. It completely throws his schedule off and Jake can’t sleep properly when the sunshine is glaring through the big balcony doors, so he closes the curtains and keeps them shut.

Not having to worry about whether it’s day or night actually helps keep him more focused. It doesn’t matter what time it is or what day it is. Jake just needs to focus on continuing to cut his squares and try to reach his cut total. Once he’s done that, he’ll be down to sets of five and he can order food, sleep on the couch and do a bunch of other things he’s earned.

But for now, he just has to focus on cutting his squares of pasta and keeping track of his count totals, no matter how hungry and tired he is and how much his hands are hurting.

* * *

He’s run out of pasta.

He’s. Run. Out. Of. Pasta.

He hadn’t even noticed until he’d grabbed the cooked pasta piece out of his bowl and he’d repeated the same routine he’d done dozens of times already by going over to the pantry to take out another batch of dry pasta to cook. But he doesn’t have anymore pasta.

Well, that’s not quite right. He does have some fusilli and rotini pasta left, but that wouldn’t work for his cutting practice. The corkscrew-shaped pasta pieces would be impossible to measure properly. So that’s not an option. But he’s gone through all of his other pasta.

He’d considered making a batch from scratch, but he can’t get any eggs out of the fridge and just the thought of whisking the eggs and flour together with his damaged hands makes him want to cry. So that’s not an option either.

But he can’t give up! He’s at 3145 and he needs to keep going so he can get back down to five. Giving up isn’t an option.

Looking around the kitchen, he frantically searches for a solution. He needs something to cut. His eyes land on the box of cereal next to him, but he dismisses it. The dry cereal would crumble from the force of the cuts and that would be a disaster. Going to the pantry, he examines every food item he has, but none of them are good options. He has flour, cocoa powder, baking powder and lots of other baking ingredients, but none of them are options. Rice wouldn’t work well either. Each grain would be so small that it would take him forever to separate them and line them up for cutting.

So what can he use?!

He wanders around the apartment, trying to come up with a solution. His mind is moving very slowly and he keeps getting distracted by the television and staring at random walls, but he always gives his head a shake and forces himself back on track.

But as he’s staring at the wall of the living room, it occurs to him that he’s found the perfect solution! Nothing in his rules states that the cutting has to be done on food. He can do his cuts on anything. As long as they’re perfectly sized cuts, they’ll count.

Staring at the enormous, white wall, he realizes that’s a perfect cutting surface. Stepping around the upside down couch, he hurries to the wall and runs his bandaged hands over the smooth drywall as he begins to smile. This is the perfect option! He’ll be able to easily keep track of his cutting and he has so many walls to use! He’ll be able to get through his 3145 cuts. Perfect!

Smiling, Jake hurries back into the kitchen and gathers his supplies. He’ll need his ruler, his knife, his paper with his cutting total, his pencil, his box of cereal and he fills a glass with water to take with him. When he’s back in the living room, he picks the largest wall and shoves the furniture blocking it out of the way. The upside down couch gets in his way, so he has to push that out of the way too.

When he’s ready, he presses the ruler to the wall and lines up his knife. Moving the tip of his knife to the zero marker on the ruler, he makes a careful cut, letting the tip of the knife dig into the soft dry wall. When that’s successful, he slowly moves the knife over to the 1/4 inch mark and makes another cut. That goes well. Two cuts down, 3143 to go!

But after he’s made six good cuts—only 3139 to go—he stops and stares at his results. The cuts may be spaced at an exact 1/4 inches, but the cuts aren’t the same height! Panic clutches him and he realizes that isn’t acceptable. The cuts need to be the exact same length, not just the same distance apart.

Even looking at the cuts without using his ruler, Jake can tell that they’re not exactly the same length. With his heart plummeting, Jake slides the ruler over and measures each of the cuts. Almost none of them are the same length. Most of them are only 1/16 inch or less different, but that’s not acceptable. “Damn it,” he mumbles and sighs sadly.

There go his six good cuts. He’ll have to start over. Dropping his ruler and the knife, he crosses out the 3145 on his paper and writes 3150. Then he picks up his ruler and knife again—clenching his jaw to push back the pain of protest from his hands—and lines up to do his first cut a few inches away from his previous set of six. When he’s got the tip of the knife embedded in the wall to mark the zero line, he slides his ruler vertically and slowly drags the knife down until he’s done a 1/4 inch cut.

It’s very difficult to keep the ruler pressed to the wall and pull the knife through the dry wall with his aching hand, but giving up isn’t an option. When the first cut’s done, he slides the rules to be horizontal again and lines the ruler up very carefully before marking the 1/4 inch spot. When the knife tip is in, he changes the orientation of the ruler and makes a 1/4 inch long cut. That goes well, but when he’s sliding the ruler back into the horizontal position, it slips out of from under his throbbing left hand and hits the floor.

Damn! Jake stares down at the ruler, which is lying by his feet. Slowly bending down, he picks it up, then straightens up and looks for his cuts on the wall. Luckily, he can see them perfectly and he manages to get the ruler lined up again…

…but then he pauses. Is it acceptable to continue the set after he’s dropped the ruler? The question makes him pause. It doesn’t seem to right to continue the set after having dropped the ruler. But he’s never previously stopped when he’s dropped his knife. So he should be able to continue…right?

His slow brain ponders over the question for a long while as he stares at the wall. He thinks for long enough that his knife drops out of his shaking right hand and Jake has to fumble to pick it up again. Unfortunately, he’s too busy thinking and he ends up cutting himself for the millionth time as he picks up the knife, but the cut isn’t bleeding enough to be worth bothering with it right now.

As he stands there, Jake suddenly realizes he’s wasting time. Why is he standing here, doing nothing?! He must be standing her for a reason, but he can’t remember what it might be. Letting out an annoyed sigh at his laziness, Jake sternly gives himself a mental kick. Come on, Jake! Let’s go! He’s got—he checks his sheet lying by his feet—3150 cuts to go.

Lining up the knife and ruler next to his other two cuts, Jake carefully measures and marks the spot for his third cut.


	19. Chapter 19

Jake’s very upset with himself. He’s worked so damn hard and he’s just not getting any better. It was very hard to stay standing for hours, so he’d allowed himself the luxury to sit down and work on the portion of wall that’s right in front of him. That helps, but holding up the knife and ruler is difficult and his swollen, aching hands are in so much pain that he has to give himself breaks to run them under cold water. Some of the cuts on his hands and arms—he has no idea how or when he’s accidentally cut his arms—have healed but others are constantly opening up. He doesn’t want to be slowed down with an infection, so he cleans his hands whenever he remembers to, but his hands seem to be getting worse rather than better.

What’s also getting worse is his cut total. He’s at 4780, which is shameful and he’s very angry at himself for embarrassing his parents like this. But at least he’s not giving up.

He eats a little bit of cereal or drinks water when his hunger and thirst distract him and whenever he gets sleepy enough that he’s constantly dropping the ruler and knife, he’ll lie down with his head on his couch pillow and go to sleep for a while. He’s also constantly cold. That’s unusual because the hotel room is normally warm enough to be comfortable and he’s wearing his chef’s jacket over his shirt. But he still feels cold all the time. But going to get more clothes seems like admitting defeat, so Jake decides to push through it. Sleeping is difficult when he’s cold, but he refuses to let himself use the thick, warm blanket from his bed. That’s a reward that he’ll get when he gets his cut total back down to five.

A few hours ago, he’d been curled up in a ball against the wall and he’d spied a piece of brown fabric sticking out from underneath the upside-down couch. He hadn’t recognized it and he’d gone over to pull it out—only to recognize it moments later. It’s the thin blanket that his mom always kept thrown over the back of Jake’s couch. She’d put it over her feet while watching TV with his dad while they’d wait for Jake to finish service. Her feet would always get cold.

Seeing the blanket threatens to bring another wave of grief over him and Jake quickly stuffs the blanket underneath the couch so it’s out of sight. Thankfully, being cold, hungry and the pain from his hands is enough of a distraction that he doesn’t burst into tears. In general, he’s been spending a lot less time crying than he usually does. Well, he’s spending a lot less time doing anything these days.

He’s also moving a lot slower than he should be. It’s worst after waking up from a nap. Sometimes he’ll wake up and his mind will be moving so slowly that he’ll have forgotten what he’s supposed to be doing. He’ll lie on the floor and blankly stare around the living room, the lamp next to him and the television throwing a dim glow around the dark room.

With his stomach twisting from hunger and his hands aching with pain, he’ll often let himself spend a few minutes feeling sorry for himself. He misses his parents so much. He misses Tom too. He can’t decide who he misses more. His parents are gone forever whereas Tom is still alive, but he doesn’t want to be around Jake. It’s really hard deciding which one’s worse.

He’ll lie on the floor and curl up in a ball, shivering and letting himself cry over how alone he is and how much his hands hurt. He wishes he could call his parents and hear their voices one more time. He wishes Tom would appear and give him a hug and offer him encouragement.

But neither of those will ever happen. He’s alone and the only person who can motivate him to keep going is himself. And continuing his mission to get down to sets of five is something he needs to do. His performance has been very poor, but giving up would make the whole thing even worse.

So after letting himself cry for a little while and miss the people he loves, he pushes all of that out of his mind and sits up to eat a handful of cereal and drink a little water. Then it’s time to pick up his ruler and his knife and get back to work until he’s too exhausted to continue.

* * *

Holding his breath, Jake presses the ruler as hard against the wall as his throbbing hand allows and forces his other shaking hand to hold the knife properly as he carefully makes the 1/4 inch cut that brings his total to 13.

It’s one of the highest totals he’s reached recently and it’s really exciting. Part of his success may be due to him having cheated a little bit by pulling his mom’s brown blanket out from underneath the couch and draping it over himself. Surprisingly, the emotional significance of the blanket didn’t hit him very hard. He’s just happy to have that little bit of warmth. The warmth makes him smile and it’s easier to stay positive, which is probably why he’s doing so well today.

He slides the ruler over to make his 14th cut and slowly measures out the 1/4 inch space he needs. Ignoring the scream of pain from his hand, he pushes the tip of the knife into the wall and moves his ruler over. Lining it up precisely with the tip of the knife, he clenches his jaw so his shaking, aching hand keeps the ruler still and he slowly makes his 1/4 inch cut.

Unfortunately, he puts a little too much pressure on the knife and he ends up cutting 1/8 inch further down than he wanted to.

All of his happiness drains away and bitter devastation floods through him as he stares at the too-long line which has ruined his set. Letting out a small sob, Jake drops the ruler and knife and slumps against the wall, wanting to cry and scream.

Why can’t he do this?! Why is he continuing to embarrass his parents like this? His parents spent a lot of money sending him to culinary school and they bought him the beautiful knife that’s currently lying on the carpet next to him and Jake can’t even do 14 little cuts without screwing up.

He glances at the pile of papers sitting next to his cushion and a lump grows in his throat when he sees that he’ll have to cross out the 5195 and put 5200. If he can’t do 14 cuts in a row, how is he ever going to do 5200?! He wants to do it and he knows he has to do it, but he’s so tired and he doesn’t want to do it. Even sitting here, whining and being upset is a waste of time, but Jake can’t help it.

Pulling the blanket tighter around himself, he numbly reaches over for his box of cereal and takes out a handful. Shoving small pieces into his mouth one at a time, he chews listlessly as he stares around the dimly lit room. He needs to keep working, but he just can’t summon the energy to do it. It’s much nicer to sit here and berate himself for being incompetent and disrespecting his parents while eating his cereal and trying to ignore the ache in his hands.

He glares at the television, hating the happy, smiling people who are chatting away about something stupid. They could probably do the 5200 cuts in no time. But Jake can’t because he’s incompetent. How he ever tricked Chef into letting him work in her kitchen is beyond him.

The stupid people on the television are now knocking on something. And one of them must be named Jake because they’re saying his name. Great. They’re rubbing it in that they could do the 5200 cuts and he can’t.

But as Jake keeps staring at the television, he notices something strange. The television channel has changed from showing some random show to a toothpaste commercial…but there’s still knocking and his name is still coming out of the television. Jake frowns at the television. Where is that knocking sound coming from? The lady on the television is brushing her teeth. She’s not knocking on anything. And her mouth is full of toothpaste, so she’s not calling his name.

In fact…the knocking sound and his name don’t seem to be coming from the television  at all . Sitting up, Jake’s frown deepens as he stares around himself. Where are those sounds coming from?! The harder he focuses on the knocking, the clearer it b ecomes . It’s coming from the direction of the front door.

Jake’s completely forgotten his front door exists. His entire world consists of his living room, his knife, ruler and the wall. He only remembers the existence of his bathroom when he has to go pee and he goes into the kitchen when he needs to get more cereal from the pantry, but he’s forgotten about the rest of his hotel room, never mind the front door. But there’s definitely somebody knocking on his door.

A rush of fear floods Jake. What if they’ve come to take him away? He hasn’t done his cuts properly, so they must be here to arrest him! But wait, wait, wait. That’s stupid. Having bad knife skills isn’t against the law. It should be, but it’s not. Despite that being a logical explanation, Jake still feels scared as he pulls the blanket tighter around himself. But as the minutes go by and the knocking continues, Jake slowly recognizes the voice of the person calling his name.

That’s Tom’s voice. Tom’s calling Jake’s name.

Excitement rushes through him. Tom’s here! Tom’s going to help him with the cuts! Scrambling to his feet, Jake wants to hurry over to the door. Unfortunately, he gets dizzy and his legs aren’t working very well so he crumbles into a heap. But the thought of Tom being here is enough to get him moving again.

Tom’s here! Tom’s here and he’s going to hug Jake and make him feel warm and loved. Jake won’t be alone! Tom will help him with the cuts and everything will get better! His heart racing, Jake’s excitement is nearly bringing him to tears as he hurries through the dark hotel room towards his front door. The closer he gets, the more clearly he can hear Tom.

“Jake? Are you in there? I just wanna talk to you for a minute.”

Jake’s heart erupts with joy at the sound of Tom’s voice. He’s at the door and he reaches for the locks with shaking, bandaged hands…

…but he freezes before he touches the deadbolt. Why is Tom really here? Jake knows why he wants Tom to be here…but why is Tom here? The last time Jake had spoken to him, Tom had made it clear that he agrees with Chef. Jake’s incompetent and doesn’t deserve to be in the kitchen. Why would Tom suddenly change his mind?

The answer to that is: he wouldn’t. In fact, the longer Jake stands there, his blanket hanging off his shoulders and his shaking, bandaged hands frozen on the door locks, the clearer everything becomes. Tom’s here to make fun of him. He’s here to laugh at Jake having reached 5200 cuts and point out that Tom and Chef were right and Jake was wrong. Tom will remind Jake that he’s disrespecting his parents and they’re ashamed of him.

His earlier excitement vanishes and tears well up in Jake’s eyes. Tom keeps knocking on the door, but Jake quickly pulls his hands off the locks. A part of him knows that Tom’s earned the right to come in and make fun of him. Tom gave Jake his love and patience and friendship, and Jake repaid it by being an incompetent moron who tricked him into believing he was worthy of Tom’s love and time.

But Jake still loves Tom and he desperately wants to do better. He’ll keep trying and if it turns out that he really can’t do it, then he’ll let Tom come in and berate him—as he should. But for now, Jake wants to keep trying.

Unfortunately, not letting Tom in is easier said than done. Jake is so desperate to see Tom smile at him and feel Tom’s arms around him. Just because Jake hasn’t earned it and won’t get any of that ever again doesn’t mean Jake doesn’t miss him. His face crumbling, Jake begins to cry as Tom keeps calling his name through the locked door between them. Ignoring what his heart desperately wants, Jake keeps shuffling backwards, moving himself further and further away from the door.

He slowly goes back to his corner in the living room and he sniffs hard and blinks through the tears streaming down his face as he forces his shaking hands to pick up his knife and ruler again. It’s hard to ignore Tom’s knocking and listening to him calling Jake’s name, but as Jake gets his ruler and knife lined up on the wall, he pushes everything else out of his mind. If he’s ever going to earn the respect of his parents or Tom back—even if Tom will never forgive Jake for tricking him and making him think he’s a good chef when he’s clearly not—he has to keep working.

Thankfully, he manages to do his first cut well. Only 5199 to go.

* * *

After standing at Jake’s door for ages, Tom finally stops knocking. His damn knuckles are sore and guests walking by have started giving him weird looks. Sighing softly, he flattens his hand against the door.

Over the last month, Tom has tried calling Jake dozens of times, but his phone is never turned on. He can’t even leave him messages any more because his voice mail is full. He’s texted Jake way too many times, but Jake hasn’t replied at all.

While eating at the restaurant with clients, Tom had noticed right away that Jake isn’t in the kitchen. The desserts have all been re-runs of ones that Jake had introduced previously, but that hadn’t been the only indicator. When he’d received the same dessert as his client, Tom had discreetly looked at the positioning of different components on the plates and they’d looked slightly off. It wasn’t something that anybody else would notice, but Tom did.

If a dessert was meant to have five small dots of sauce on the plate, both plates would have five dots but the dots wouldn’t be the exact same size on both plates and distances between the dots wasn’t exactly the same. Nobody else in the restaurant seemed to care about these small imperfections and of course, it didn’t impact the taste of the dessert and they still looked beautiful. But it made Tom so damn sad to be reminded that Jake’s not in the kitchen and Tom’s not eating something that’s been prepared by Jake’s amazing hands. Plus, these imperfections would have annoyed Jake and oddly enough, Tom feels a bit upset that Jake’s standards aren’t being met. His standards are ridiculous and unnecessary, but it’s still upsetting in an odd way.

Despite having stuffed his schedule full of sessions in order to stay distracted, Tom encounters hundreds of reminders about Jake every single day. Desserts in the restaurant. Going for a swim at the pool. Seeing the hotel stationary on his bedside table that has ‘Seever’ written on it.

Doing his virgin roleplaying with the client who loves pretending it’s Tom’s first time is especially bad because it always reminds Tom of how far his and Jake’s relationship had come and how they’d just reached a good place when everything had blown up. He’s good enough at his job that his distraction isn’t obvious to his client, but it still sucks. He misses Jake, he’s worried about him and he hates how things had ended between them. But as much as Tom wishes he could move on, he can’t let the situation go.

Last night, Tom had started wondering whether Jake’s even at the hotel any more. Maybe he’s packed up and moved halfway around the world. That’s absolutely Jake’s right and unfortunately, Tom’s realized he’s being the typical clingy ex-boyfriend who won’t accept that Jake broke up with him. He needs to move on with his life, but he still loves Jake and he can’t just put their whole relationship behind him as if they were part of a book that he’s sticking back on the shelf. So he’s decided to find out if Jake’s even at the hotel any more. If he is, then there’s still hope. If he’s not, then Tom has to move on.

The question of whether or not Jake is still at the hotel is full of mystery. When he’d asked the front desk last night, they’d told Tom that Jake wasn’t at the hotel. They hadn’t offered any other information and that should have answered Tom’s question…

…except he can’t believe that Jake would just leave without saying goodbye. Jake’s too polite for that. Adding to the confusion is that Jake’s phone is constantly turned off but the voice mail still has Jake’s name on it. If Jake moved away, wouldn’t he change his phone number? And even if he decided to keep his old number, why would his phone stay turned off for a whole month?

Yes, Jake can afford to buy himself a million phones if he wants them, but what’s the point in keeping an old phone number if Jake isn’t using that phone? It makes no sense.

The final confusing bit of this mystery is Chesa’s behavior. Chesa has been cleaning Tom’s floor for twenty years and she always told him and Jake how hard she’d fought to be given this floor—since it houses the most expensive suites and the richest clientele, meaning the tips left for the housekeeping staff are much higher than on other floors—and she always told them she’d fight to keep it until retirement.

But a few days after Tom’s argument with Jake, Chesa had disappeared from his floor and from Tom’s life. Different housekeepers rotate through to clean this floor and Tom had thought Chesa was on vacation or sick, until he’d randomly bumped into her on a lower floor on his way to the gym.

She’d taken one look at Tom and had run into the room she was cleaning, shutting the door behind her. Tom had been surprised by her bizarre behavior and he’d stayed by her cart for a while, knowing she’d have to come out to get her cleaning supplies. But when Chesa had stubbornly stayed in the room, Tom had been forced to come to the conclusion that Chesa’s deliberately avoiding him. He has no idea why or if this has anything to do with Jake. When he’d caught a glimpse of her, she’d looked almost…scared?

The whole thing is very strange.

Knocking on Jake’s door seemed like a good way to verify if Jake was really here or not…but Tom realizes that’s not true. Jake could be here and just ignoring him or he could be out. Or he could be halfway around the world living a new life with a new boyfriend. So not getting an answer from his door knocking sucks, but it’s not enough to make that weird feeling in his gut go away. Something strange is going on and Tom can’t let it go. He should, but he can’t. He loves Jake too much to just walk away from the whole situation.

When he’s back in his room, he starts getting ready for his client who will be arriving in about an hour, but while he gets himself and the room ready, Tom’s mind is still stuck on Jake and trying to figure out what he should do next.

* * *

After Jake messes up his fifth cut and his total jumps to 5205, he takes a short break because his hand is hurting and his mind is still stuck at the front door where Tom had been.

The knocking had stopped shortly after Jake had gone back to the living room and knowing that Tom had left had made Jake cry, despite his efforts to stay focused on his work. The crying had made him mess up his fifth cut, but that’s not surprising. He misses Tom so much! But having Tom come into his room to make fun of him and berate him would just make him feel worse so Jake’s happy he made the decision to keep Tom out.

But as he slumps against the wall, sniffing back tears and trying not to move his aching hands, a thought occurs to him: if Tom really wanted to, he could come into Jake’s room. The security latch and the deadbolt are closed but if Tom really wanted to come in, he could break the door down. He’s probably very angry that Jake is at 5205 and that Jake’s embarrassed his parents and everybody else who used to trust him. Tom will probably try to break in soon.

Panic floods Jake and he sits up with a jerk. That can’t happen! Jake needs more time! If he can get his total back down to five, then Tom won’t be so angry. But getting his total down isn’t going well, so there’s only one option. Jake has to make sure Tom can’t come in.

Standing up and dropping the blanket, Jake hurries back to the door and stares at it. He needs to barricade the door. That’s the only way Tom won’t be able to break in. But with what?!

As he stares around, he sees the dining room table. He can use that! Hurrying to the table, Jake grabs it with his hands and a surge of pain runs through his fingers and up his arms, but he refuses to give up. Using all his strength, he pushes the table towards the door. It’s a very slow process, but the table slowly slides over the carpet, inch by inch.

It takes ages, but he finally manages to get the table wedged up against the front door. Looking around the room, Jake decides to bring the chairs over too, but he’s sweating and shaking so he needs to sit down and take a break first. The pain from his hands is giving him a headache and he feels like he’s going to throw up, but he can’t stop before he’s secured the door. Tom could break in at any moment!

That fear gives him enough adrenaline to keep going and he stumbles to the dining table chairs and manages to drag them to the door one by one. He shoves some of the chairs underneath the table and he manages to lift the other ones on top of the table.

When he’s done, he collapses in a heap and swallows hard so he doesn’t throw up, but he’s smiling. For once, he’s accomplished a goal he’s set for himself! And even better, he’s now made it impossible for Tom to break in and yell at him. Feeling happier than he has in ages, Jake slowly makes his way back to the living room and sprawls out in his spot. He’s very tired and he’s worked so hard that Jake thinks he’s earned the right to have a nap before he continues cutting.

Clenching his jaw from the pain in his hands, Jake struggles to pull the blanket over himself and he lays down on his pillow and drifts off to sleep.

* * *

Jake’s good mood vanishes once he wakes up and goes back to cutting. Despite his earlier success at barricading the door, the cutting is going very badly. His hands are hurting so much and he’s so tired that he doesn’t manage to do more than two good cuts before he’s screwing up. His total climbs alarmingly quickly and Jake even has to go find more paper because he’s run out of room on the piles of papers around him.

It’s ridiculous.

As he sits staring at the wall covered in cuts, Jake wants to cry. He’s covered most of the lower part of this wall and he’ll soon have to switch to a new wall. The evidence of his failed cuts covering the wall taunt him and he closes his eyes so he can stop seeing it.

He can’t believe he’s this pathetic. His parents would be so ashamed of him. Thinking about his parents makes that familiar grief crawl through him again and his throat tightens. He misses them so badly! He just wants to hear their voices one more time.

His eyes slide over the coffee table where his phone sits. Jake could easily grab the phone, turn it on and watch that wonderful video of his parents on the waterslide. They’d say ‘Hi, Jake’ and tell him they love him. He wants to see their smiling faces so badly!

But he hasn’t earned that right. Drawing in a shaky breath, Jake squeezes his eyes shut. He can watch the video once he gets his cuts down to five. He needs to use his desire to watch the video as a reward. Watching it now would be giving up and his parents would be appalled by that. No, he has to keep going.

Struggling to keep from crying, Jake opens his eyes and numbly reaches for his glass of water. After he’s had a few sips, he digs a small handful of cereal out of the box and slowly eats it. Once that’s done, he picks up the knife and ruler with shaking hands and focuses back on the wall.

5465 cuts to go.

* * *

As Tom is sitting at the coffee shop, staring down at his work schedule on his phone through the glare of the sun and nursing his coffee drink, a shadow falls over his table.

“Good morning, sunshine!”

Tom glances up and smiles when his friend, Mark, appears on the other side of the table. Dressed in his usual uniform of skin tight pants and a sleeveless shirt that’s three sizes too small, Mark deposits an enormous and expensive looking purse on the table, which is clearly an indication that he wants Tom to notice it.

Grinning and rolling his eyes, Tom drops his phone on the table. “Hello to you too. Nice purse.”

Mark gives Jake a huge smile and claps his hands. “I know! My daddy gave it to me.”

Tom snorts, smiling knowingly. “Which one?”

Mark pretends to look shocked. “Which one? How dare you! All of my daddies give me wonderful presents.”

Laughing, Tom leans back in his chair and shoves the drink he’d bought Mark across the table. “You’re such a whore.”

Wiggling his eyebrows, Mark laughs. “What a coincidence! So are you!”

“Small world, huh?”

Mark drops into his chair and grabs his drink. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome. How was work?”

Shrugging, Mark makes himself comfortable in his chair. “Same old, same old. Have I mentioned I hate Viagra?”

Tom laughs. “Old man took forever?”

“Yep. As usual. But he’s adorable and he buys me pretty things, so I’m keeping him.”

They lapse into silence for a while, until Mark narrows his eyes at him. “So despite the whole cheerful act you’ve got going on, I can tell you’re still down in the dumps.”

Tom’s smile easily slides off his face and he sighs. “I tried knocking on his door again the other day.”

Mark groans. “I told you to leave it alone. You’re never gonna get over the guy if you keep obsessing over him. It’s been two months.”

“I’m not obsessing over him. Things just aren’t adding up and I have this weird feeling.”

“And I keep telling you that you’re wasting your time. It’s a story as old as time. Guy falls in love with his whore, gets excited he doesn’t have to pay the whore for sex any more and then gets bored and finds an excuse to end things.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “That’s not how things went. Things were different with Jake.”

Mark sighs dramatically. “Honey, that’s what they all say and it always ends up the same way. Don’t ever date clients and don’t ever fall in love with them. Honestly, you’ve been in this business long enough now. You should know all this.”

“I know you don’t believe me, but this is different. Jake wasn’t like my other clients.”

“I know you really believe that, but trust me—that’s what everybody says. And no matter how you slice it, it ended up the same way everybody else’s stories do. He dumped you.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t a normal situation. He’s grieving and his head was all over the place and then he just disappeared. He’s not out there, running around with a new boy toy. He practically fell off the face of the earth, his phone is never turned on—”

“Have you considered that he might have just blocked your number?”

That stops Tom short. No, he hadn’t considered that. That’s not a nice idea and it really hurts. Unfortunately, it could explain why Jake’s phone immediately goes to voicemail. But it doesn’t explain the other oddities. “Okay, fine. Maybe he did wanna break up with me and he doesn’t wanna see me anymore. But what about the other odd things?”

Mark rolls his eyes. “That housekeeper who’s avoiding you? Tom, who the hell cares? There could be a million reasons why she’s avoiding you. It doesn’t mean it has anything to do with your former sugar daddy.”

The use of that term brings a rush of anger through Tom. “I told you not to fucking call him that! He wasn’t my sugar daddy and I wouldn’t ever want him to be my sugar daddy. I know you can’t get this through your thick skull but I actually _am_ the type of person who somebody can fall in love with without my job being a contributing factor.”

That makes Mark’s smirk slide off his face. “I’m sorry. I know you’re hurt and I’m just trying to help.”

Tom clenches his jaw. “Telling me that my relationship with Jake was a cliché and saying he only loved me because I’m a whore doesn’t help.”

“You’re right and I’m sorry. I’ll keep those comments to myself from now on. But I just hate seeing you hurt.”

“I’m not enjoying it either. But I’m doing what I can and I’m working a lot and I’m trying to get over Jake. Eventually, I’ll be over him, but I wanna figure out what’s going on first.”

Mark gives him a soft look. “Is it really that crazy that he just got bored and ghosted you?”

“Yes. Yes, that _is_ crazy. Our relationship barely even got started and he loved the changes in our sex lives. We hadn’t even settled into things before his parents—” And the mention of Judy and Brian makes Tom’s throat tighten and he has to take a deep breath before he can continue. “Before his parents passed away. Then everything happened so fast and now he’s disappeared.”

“Why are you so sure he didn’t want to leave?”

“Because I was the only one who could make him smile in those days and he loved having me around. He tried not being too clingy, but he loved it as much as I did. Then he had that bad shift in the kitchen and he freaked out—by the way!” Tom raises a finger. There’s a new oddity he hadn’t told Mark about yet.

Mark raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“I talked to Chef Mitra—”

“Who’s that again?”

“She’s Jake’s boss. Jake claims he got fired, right? That’s what we were arguing about. Or at least, I think we were. I still don’t know what we were fighting about and why Jake got so upset, but he kept telling me he got fired. But I talked to her and she said she never fired Jake. She made him take a leave of absence because he was still grieving and it was impacting his performance in the kitchen, but she never fired him.”

Mark frowns. “Why would Jake say he was fired?”

“I have no idea. But that’s one of the other things that’s strange. Everything that’s happened is so out of character for Jake and if we put Chesa’s odd behavior on top of it…I just can’t shake this idea that something’s not right. Maybe I’m stuck on this because I’m still in love with him and I really miss him and I wanted this to work out so badly, but I don’t think I can move on until I’ve talked to Jake and he’s given me a clear answer.”

“But you need to find him first.”

“Yeah. And that’s the part I can’t do. Nobody at the hotel’s telling me anything. His parents’ house got sold and I don’t know how to get in touch with anybody who might know where Jake is. So I’m stuck.”

Mark chews on his lip as he sips his coffee, lost in thought. “Well, why don’t you start with the housekeeper? You said she’s been acting weird. Maybe that has nothing to do with Jake, but maybe it does. You should start there.”

Up to now, Tom’s been hesitant about confronting Chesa because her behavior makes him think Tom’s done something to upset her and keeping his distance seemed like the polite thing to do. But now he realizes Mark’s right. Tom hasn’t knowingly done anything to upset Chesa and he has the right to know why she’s terminated their friendship so abruptly.

And maybe, just maybe she’ll have some more information about Jake.


	20. Chapter 20

Jake’s running out of cereal. He hasn’t noticed for a while because he’s just kept going back to his pantry to grab a new box whenever he’d finished the previous one.

But now, he’s on his last box of cereal. He hadn’t even noticed it was his last one before now and it’s already half empty. He’d gotten really distracted a while ago—he has no idea how many days ago it had been—when Tom had knocked on his door again. The furniture barricading the door had allowed him to ignore Tom and focus on his work, but a downside to having Tom there was that Jake had been distracted with how much he misses Tom and that’s one of the reasons he hadn’t noticed that he’s on his last box of cereal. What’s worse is that the box is already half empty.

That brings on a wave of panic. Jake can’t order more food until he’s finished his cuts, but it’s become more clear with each passing day that Jake might not be able to do that before he’s run out of cereal. Once he’s done this box of cereal, he can’t eat anything else. He can’t just switch to eating the rice or the other pasta that are still in his pantry. He’s gone from eating oatmeal and pasta to just eating his cereal and he can’t switch back before he’s earned that right.

But as he stares into his half-empty box of cereal, he realizes this must have been part of the plan all along. He had the chance to finish his cuts while eating the other food, but he hadn’t managed to do that. If he can’t get his cut total back down to five by the time he’s done this last box of cereal…

…then that’s the logical end. Jake will have failed. He’ll have failed his parents, himself, Tom and anybody else who ever believed in him. Everybody’s given him plenty of chances and he’s screwed them up, one after the other.

Everything’s becoming clear. If Jake can’t get his cut total back down to five by the time he finishes his cereal, he’ll have to die. That stunning realization fills him with sadness and he bursts into tears, very upset with himself. He desperately wants to beg for more time, but he doesn’t deserve more time. He’s had plenty of time and he’s been given a very reasonable deadline: finish the cuts before he finishes his cereal.

Sobbing, Jake stretches out his aching, bandaged hand and gently touches the paper that’s tracking his most recent count.

6890.

He’ll never manage that before he finishes his cereal! But he doesn’t want to die. He wants to watch the video of his parents and he wants to hug Tom one more time. But he hasn’t earned that right. And because he hasn’t earned that right, he’ll have to die.

A part of him wants to give up right now. He’ll never be able to finish his cuts, so what’s the point in trying? But a voice in the back of his head points out that his parents will be even more disappointed in him if he gives up now. Even if failure is a certainty, he needs to keep trying right up until the end. Giving up early would make the whole thing worse.

He really doesn’t want to keep going, but after realizing that he has to, he decides it would be a good idea to ration out his cereal. He has a tendency to mindlessly eat when he’s really tired or upset and that’s not the right way to end things. He needs to ration his cereal and stay focused on his cutting. That’s how his parents and Tom would want him to meet his end.

Picking up his precious box of cereal, Jake carefully pours it out on the carpet. The pile doesn’t look like much, but splitting it up into rations will help. He slowly divides the pile into smaller and smaller ones. The more piles he makes, the more time he’ll have to keep trying before having to die, but he’s always so hungry and if he makes each ration too small, he’ll be too weak and distracted by his hunger to focus on his cuts. It’s hard deciding what portion sizes to make, but Jake finally gets it done.

He’s left with nine portions. That makes his deadline even clearer. He gets to eat nine more times before the end.

His throat clogs with tears and fear clutches him because he doesn’t want to die. He really doesn’t want to die. He wants to hug Tom again and watch his parents’ video. But clearly, the nine piles of cereal are telling him that he has to. There’s no choice here.

Shaking, Jake slowly picks up his knife and ruler, desperate to finish things on a good note, even if he’ll end up failing and having to die—which makes his heart clench with fear again. Giving his head a shake, Jake takes a deep, shaky breath. He needs to calm down and keep working diligently all the way to the end. That’s what his parents would expect.

Slowly lifting the knife and ruler, he presses them against the wall, ready to keep working until the end.

* * *

Stepping out of the elevator on the floor where Tom had seen Chesa a few days ago, he sees a housekeeping cart and hurries towards it. A part of him is worried that she won’t have any answers and then he’ll have reached a dead-end, but he’s also worried that she’ll confirm his fears and tell him that Jake had left. Maybe Jake had lied and told her Tom had treated him badly and broken up with him and that’s why she’s avoiding him? In any case, he has to talk to her.

The door to the room she’s cleaning is open and when Tom peers inside, he sees her changing the bedsheets. Knocking on the door, he braces himself for whatever’s about to happen.

She glances up and her expression goes from a polite smile to wide-eyed fear. “Tom! Oh! You not supposed to be here. This not your room.”

“Technically, I’m standing in the hallway and I’m allowed to do that.”

She stares at him and Tom sighs softly. “Look, I don’t know what happened that made you decide to avoid me, but I’m hoping I can talk to for just a minute.”

“Jake not at hotel! That is what policy say. I say Jake not at hotel!”

Tom frowns at her outburst. She sounds almost hysterical and she’s dropped the bedsheets as she twists her hands around. “Okay. Do you know where—”

“Jake Seever not in hotel! I not say more information. Jake not in hotel!”

She keeps staring at him with wide eyes and Tom’s very confused. It almost seems like Chesa’s begging Tom to understand something that she’s not saying, but he has no idea what she’s trying to tell him. “Chesa, I don’t—”

A guest walks past Tom in the hallway and Chesa sucks in a sharp breath. “You need more towel? Yes, sir! Yes, I bring you towels! You go up to room and I bring you towel right away.”

Tom blinks. None of this makes any sense. “I don’t need any—”

Hurrying towards Tom, she’s pasted a huge, fake smile on her face. “Yes, towels, I understand! I bring you towels, sir. Good towels! I bring up to your room right away.”

Still confused, Tom watches her go to her cart and rummage around in it, pulling out some towels. Well, if Chesa’s going to give him towels, he might as well take them…? But when he holds out his arms, Chesa stares at him, her eyes wild.

“Yes, you go up to room and I bring you towels. I bring now! I bring good towels, sir.”

Finally, Tom gets it. Chesa wants to talk to him but she doesn’t want to let Tom into somebody else’s room and she doesn’t want to talk in the hallway where the cameras are recording everything.

Putting a friendly smile on his face, Tom nods. “Thank you very much. I’ll be waiting.”

Not wanting to attract anymore attention, Tom heads for the elevator and hurries back to his room. While he waits for Chesa, he paces around anxiously and that weird clench in his gut that’s been telling him that something’s wrong with this entire situation grows. Why did Chesa keep mentioning ‘policy’ and how did she know that Tom was going to ask about Jake? There’s no reason for Chesa to bring up Jake out of the blue…unless something bad is going on. Struggling to stay calm, Tom wanders around his room, one nightmare scenario after the other playing in his head.

Finally, there’s a knock on his door and Tom’s racing to open it while Chesa calls out “Housekeeping!”. Pulling the door open, Tom stares at her.

She’s standing there, holding a stack of towels. Despite the light brown color of her skin, she looks pale and scared as she stares at him. “I have towels. I bring inside, yes?”

“Sure,” Tom mumbles, stepping back from the door.

The moment Chesa’s inside, she shuts the door behind her and drops the towels to the floor. Her face crumbles and she looks ready to cry. “Tom, I want to say for so long but not allowed! I don’t know what to do! Jake need help but not allowed to go to room! He—”

Tom blinks, trying to keep up with the information she’s dumping on him. “You know where Jake is?”

She’s nodding frantically and lets out a small sob as she points a shaking hand at Tom’s wall. Tom’s wall which is shared with Jake’s room. Is she really telling him that—

“Jake’s still here? He’s at the hotel?”

Nodding, she presses her lips together, her eyes shining with tears. “Yes. He no go anywhere.”

Tom’s heart soars at the thought that Jake’s still here, right on the other side of this wall. So there’s still a chance! But Chesa’s behavior is dampening his excitement a bit. “What’s wrong? Why are you freaking out about this? Jake’s lived here forever.”

She shakes her head. “No, no, no. Jake ask for privacy protocol. Very strict. Policy very clear. Nobody knock on door, nobody call, nobody say Jake here.”

So the front desk staff had lied to him. Well, they’d been following policy, but it’s still annoying. But Chesa seems terrified at having gone against the strict hotel policy and Tom tries to give her a reassuring smile. “I won’t tell anybody you told me, I promise. I’ll just keep knocking on Jake’s door and if he doesn’t wanna see me, then that’s his right. I won’t tell him that you told me, don’t worry.”

But Chesa looks frantic. “That not the problem! Problem is Jake need help but nobody allowed to go in!”

Tom blinks and his excitement is quickly replaced by fear. “Why does Jake need help? What’s going on?”

She wrings her hands and takes a shaky breath. “He…he…” She squeezes her eyes shut, her face twisted with pain.

Tom grabs her hands and squeezes them gently. “Chesa, if Jake needs help, you gotta tell me. I know you’re worried about your job but—”

“Not care about job! But Jake say want privacy! I not have right to invade!”

That bad feeling in his gut is back full force. Chesa wouldn’t be this worried about Jake unless something really bad is going on. The fact that Jake asked for complete privacy is fine. Tom has the front desk engage the privacy protocol for him every evening when he has a session. But Chesa makes it sound like Jake’s had the protocol engaged for a while. But that’s not that big of a deal either. For all Tom knows, Jake’s been going out and having fun or at least taking steps to move forward…but that doesn’t explain why Chesa is so worried. That fear in his gut is getting worse and it’s time for Tom to get some straight answers. “You gotta tell me what’s going on. I wanna know everything. Right now.”

She’s shaking and looks terrified so Tom tries to push aside his own anxiety as he gently takes her hand and leads her to his couch where they sit down.

She takes a deep breath and briefly closes her eyes. “Two months ago, Jake tell hotel to put privacy lock on room. If you ask ‘where is Jake’, I must say ‘I don’t know’. I no want lie to you so I change floor. But I worry about Jake. I watch his room. Jake not leave his room and nobody come to his room.”

Tom frowns. “Okay…how long did that go on for?”

“This is problem! Still going on! Jake no come out and nobody go to Jake’s room!”

Keeping himself so isolated is the last thing Jake should have done in his condition and Tom’s heart aches at how miserable Jake must have been for the last two months. But he must have been calling people and keeping in contact with the outside world a little bit? At the very least, he would have talked to the room service staff when they brought him food or groceries. “So the only people he’s been interacting with are the hotel staff who have been cleaning his room and bringing him food?”

Chesa shakes her head. “No! Nobody clean room! Nobody bring food! Nothing!”

That fear comes right back and suddenly, the entire situation changes as shock seizes Tom. “Are you telling me that nobody’s gone into Jake’s room in two months?!”

“Yes! That is privacy policy!”

“But…that’s impossible! It’s been two months! How the hell has he been getting food?!”

Chesa wrings her hands. She looks as scared as Tom is. “He not getting food! He have some food in room but not enough for two months!”

Fear is making Tom’s heart race and he stares at the wall that separates his room from Jake’s as the extent of the problem hits him.

Jake’s been by himself for two months. His phone’s been turned off. Nobody has cleaned his room, brought him food or done his laundry. He hasn’t interacting with anybody in two months. The most concerning of that is the food situation.

Jake hasn’t had a grocery delivery in two months. Tom knows how much food Jake usually keeps in his room and because Jake loves to cook things from scratch, his pantry is never stoked full of canned goods. In any case, any fresh food wouldn’t last two months anyway unless he’s been cooking and freezing it?

But it’s also Jake’s mental state that’s worrying. Why would Jake completely isolate himself like this all of a sudden?! And if he did something that’s so out of character, there’s a good chance he’s not taking care of himself properly when it comes to eating. What if…what if Jake’s been slowly starving to death on the other side of the wall? What if Jake already…

Standing up, adrenaline surges through him. “Chesa, we need to get into Jake’s room. We need to get in there right now.”

“But not allowed!”

Tom clenches his jaw. “I don’t give a shit about the hotel policy. If I get in there and I see that Jake’s fine, I’ll happily let them ban me from the hotel. But if he’s not fine, I’m not leaving him in there. Not until I know he’s okay.”

Chesa looks terrified and Tom squeezes her hands. “You stay here, okay? I’ll knock on Jake’s door and if he doesn’t open the door, I’ll figure out how to get in.”

He won’t barge in but he’ll get the door open a little and just peek in. If everything looks fine and Jake tells him to leave, Tom will do that.

She presses her lips together and appears to be thinking something over, before she’s digging a keycard out of her pocket and handing it to him. It’s her master key that allows her to open any door in the hotel.

“Thanks, Chesa.”

“Go help him. Please. I stay here.”

“I will.” Standing up, Tom hurries to his door and steps out into the hallway, striding over to Jake’s door. Staring at the door he’s knocked on so many times already, he can’t believe that Jake’s really been in there for two months. This door hasn’t been open in two months…

Deciding to give Jake one last chance to come to the door himself, Tom hammers on it. “Jake! Open the door! I know you’re in there and I need to see that you’re okay.”

Nothing. Pressing his ear against the door, Tom strains to hear something, but there’s nothing. He goes back to banging on the door with his fists, fear and love for Jake making him shake. “Jake! I’m gonna come in if you don’t open the door!”

Still nothing. Deciding he’s given Jake enough opportunity to come to the door and tell him to leave, Tom doesn’t hesitate before sliding the master key into the slot. Once the light turns green, he tries the door handle but unfortunately, the door won’t budge. Jake must have the deadbolt and probably the safety latch on.

“Shit…” Tom mumbles. Studying the door, Tom contemplates whether to break it down or not. But with the deadbolt flipped on, he might not be able to do it. And if he really hurts himself, then he’ll have to deal with that on top of everything else.

“Tom?” Chesa’s voice comes from his room. He glances over and she’s peering out of his doorway at him, keeping herself out of the view of the hallway cameras.

“He locked the door.”

Chesa chews on her lip for a moment, before she’s rushing out of Tom’s room and heading towards the supply room located next to the elevator. “Tom, bring me key! Hurry!”

Tom runs after her and Chesa grabs the keycard from him, opening the supply room and ducking inside. She’s back moment later, holding a real key and the keycard. “It open deadbolt.”

Grabbing them, Tom runs back to Jake’s room. Sliding the metal key into the deadbolt lock, he unlocks it and tries the master keycard again. This time, he’s able to push the door open a few inches until the metal chain stops him. “Jake? If you can hear me, please come to the door. I don’t wanna bust the door down but I need to know that you’re okay.”

Tom gives Jake a few seconds to respond, but nobody comes. Edging closer to the door, Tom tries to peer through the little sliver he can see…and the results aren’t good. Despite it being the middle of the day, the room is dark and there’s a weird stench wafting through the door.

At first, Tom nearly has a heart attack thinking the worst has happened, but then he recognizes the scent as rotting food. But his relief doesn’t last long because this may not be the worst scenario, but it’s very bad. Jake Seever would never keep himself locked in a room filled with rotting food. Never.

“Jake!” Tom turns his head to listen for any sound coming from the room. He does hear people talking…but when he hears a familiar jingle playing, he recognizes it as a toothpaste commercial that often airs during daytime television. The TV must be on.

That makes his panic grow even more. Jake’s definitely in here. Jake’s locked himself in his room with rotting food and the television playing and Tom has to clench his jaw so he doesn’t burst into tears from the fear clutching his heart.

The possibility that Jake’s fine and just taking a break from the world has now vanished. Jake wouldn’t have put himself into this situation if he were thinking clearly. Tom realizes that this stopped being a reconnaissance mission and it’s now a rescue mission. “Jake, I’m coming in, okay? Just hang on. I’m coming!”

Taking a few steps back, Tom braces himself and runs at the door, turning sideways so his shoulder slams into the door. Unfortunately, the chain stays stretched across the door, keeping Tom from rescuing Jake.

Adrenaline surges through him and his heart’s racing as Tom backs up across the hall and rushes at the door again, slamming into it with as much force as he can. He needs to get in there! He needs to get through this fucking door and help Jake!

This time, the chain snaps, but instead of tumbling headfirst into the room, Tom is stopped by the door, which bangs against something on the other side. Sticking his head through the opening in the door, Tom peers through the darkness and sees that the dining room table and a bunch of chairs have been piled in front of the door.

Jake’s barricaded himself into this dark room filled with rotting food as if it’s a tomb…

That makes Tom’s panic grow even more and he nearly bursts into hysterical tears, shaking with fear. “Jake, I’m coming! Just hold on, okay? I’m coming.”

Using all his strength, Tom pushes against the door. The table and chairs shift and slide and the door gradually opens further until he finally has enough room to slip in. Climbing over the table and chairs is difficult in the darkness and Tom pulls out his phone and uses the flashlight so he doesn’t break his neck. He finally gets past the pile of furniture and reaches the light switch on the wall. Flipping it on, he blinks at the sudden brightness in the short hallway but then his focus goes right back to Jake.

The smell of rotting food is much stronger and Tom’s shaking because he hasn’t seen Jake yet and Jake hasn’t said anything…which are all very bad signs. As Tom slowly moves through the still hotel room, he prays harder than he ever has in his entire life. Please don’t make him be too late. Please.

Please, please, please, please, please…

The kitchen is spotless but also deserted. Tom’s next stop is Jake’s bedroom. As he gets closer to the open door, he begins noticing tiny black fruit flies everywhere and the sweet and sour smell of rotting food gets even stronger. He can’t understand why there would be—

Stepping into Jake’s bedroom, Tom is shocked by what he finds. Jake isn’t there but there’s a bowl of rotting fruit sitting in the middle of Jake’s bed. Fruit flies are crawling all over it and they’re buzzing around the entire room. None of it makes sense, but the most important thing is that Jake isn’t in here. He’s not in his bathroom either, which only leaves one more place.

Leaving the bizarre situation in the bedroom behind, Tom heads into the living room where the television is blaring…and nearly stumbles over the couch…which has been flipped upside down for some odd reason. “What the hell?”

But he quickly ignores the odd placement of the couch and his eyes frantically scan the room for Jake. The lamps and other things in the room have been pushed into random spots and despite the glow from the television and his cellphone, it’s still difficult to make out what he’s looking at…until he sees him.

Jake’s lying curled up on the floor, covered with the brown blanket that Judy always kept on the couch. His eyes are closed and he appears to be sleeping.

Tom’s so stunned by what he’s seeing and the odd things he’s encountered in Jake’s room so far that he just stands there, gaping at Jake. But then he realizes that Jake hasn’t moved and he hasn’t reacted to Tom breaking into his room, despite the noise from the door and the furniture being moved. And that’s not good.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Tom whispers frantically, a cold shudder running down his back and his heart racing as he rushes over to Jake and kneels down next to him. Something crunches underneath his feet and knees and Tom takes a second to glance down and notice that there are piles of cereal surrounding Jake, but that’s irrelevant. Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead, please. Please, please, please, please.

“Jake?” Tom whispers, fear tightening his throat. “Can you hear me?” Reaching out a trembling hand, Tom gently touches his shoulder underneath the blanket and shakes him a bit. “Jake? Please open your eyes. It’s Tom. Your Tom’s here. Please open your eyes.”

And when Tom’s heart is just about to stop, Jake’s eyes slowly slide open. A rush of relief hits Tom and he lets out a strangled laugh, nearly collapsing. Thank God! “Jake? Can you hear me?”

Tom watches as Jake’s eyes open more fully and he frowns as his eyes drift around the room and finally settle on Tom.

But now that Tom’s no longer fearing the worst, everything else hits him all at once. Jake smells like he hasn’t bathed in months and his face is pale and way too thin. His eyes are sunken and surrounded by deep, dark shadows. His beautiful brown curls are flat from grease. The thing that really makes Tom gape at him is the patchy beard that’s covering Jake’s chin. Jake always keeps himself clean shaven and he can’t grow a proper beard if his life depended on it, so seeing the uneven patches really makes it sink in that Jake hasn’t been taking care of himself. He looks like he’s moments from death.

What’s worse is that Jake’s still frowning around the room as if he can’t figure out where Tom is or who’s talking to him. “Jake? It’s me. I’m here, buddy. Can you hear me?”


	21. Chapter 21

Jake’s spending a lot of his time sleeping these days. That’s not good because he needs to be working on his cuts and not sleeping. But on the other hand, if he gives in to his constant exhaustion and lets himself sleep a lot, he’s making his cereal rations last longer and he can push off having to die.

Then a strange thing happens. He’s having a nap and suddenly, somebody’s touching him.

His life revolves around his wall, his cereal piles, his knife, his ruler, his cup of water and his blanket, so having something else introduced out of the blue is confusing. He doesn’t understand what touched him when he first opens his eyes. As usual, his brain is moving way too slowly and he thinks maybe the people on the television are touching him? Maybe they got annoyed from watching his pathetic performance and they’ve come out of the television to hurt him?

That’s concerning and the little jolt of fear that runs through him makes Jake’s brain pick up speed enough that he can look around properly. And that’s when he gets the next big surprise. Tom’s kneeling in front of him.

Tom. Tom, who will make fun of Jake for being at—he doesn’t even remember his current cut total—and for shaming his parents. Clenching his jaw, Jake struggles not to cry. He’s already so close to dying and having this all end. Does he really have to put up with Tom making fun of him? Tom’s earned the right to do it, but Jake doesn’t want this to be his last memory of Tom because he still loves him.

But it doesn’t seem like Tom’s looking forward to making fun of Jake. In fact, he’s pale and staring down at Jake with wide eyes that are filled with concern. He keeps asking Jake if Jake can hear him or look at him, as if he’s worried that Jake’s gone deaf or blind. Maybe Tom’s worried that Jake already died and he arrived too late to make fun of him? But wait…Jake’s not dead, is he?! That’s very concerning! That means Jake didn’t ration his cereal right. Damn it! That would be another failure.

“Am I dead?” Jake whispers, hoping Tom will know the answer.

Tom stares down at him. His eyes are bright and he looks close to tears for some odd reason. “No. No, buddy. You’re not dead.”

Huh. Well, that eliminates one possibility. But if Jake’s not dead and Tom is free to make fun of him, why does Tom look so worried? Could there be another reason why Tom’s here?

“Why are you here?” Jake whispers, his throat scratching. He needs water, but getting answers to these questions is more important.

“I’m…I’m here to help you. I think you can use some help.”

Jake stares up at him and hope glows in his chest. Could it be true?! Could Tom actually be here to help him with his cutting? Will Tom be kind and give him hugs and supportive words instead of cruel words? Is Tom willing to give him one last chance to get things right?! “You…you’re going to help me?”

Tom nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I am. I promise.”

That makes Jake smile for the first time in ages. It’s very difficult to smile because it’s exhausting, but he manages. Tom will help him! Tom will help him and maybe, just maybe Jake can still win and he’ll get to live.

Struggling to sit up, Jake lets the blanket fall from his shoulders, his excitement making him ignore how cold he gets without the blanket. He sees Tom’s eyes running up and down his body and he looks shocked. Jake glances down at himself. His chef’s jacket is dirty, but that’s better than not wearing a chef’s jacket. He needs to be dressed properly when practicing his cooking skills.

“Jake…is that…have you been wearing the same jacket since our fight?” Tom’s voice sounds a bit strange.

Jake blinks. He doesn’t remember. “Maybe. I’m not sure. I’m practicing my cutting skills.” His lips aren’t moving properly and he’s slurring a lot of his words but he can’t help it. He’s exhausted and talking requires way too much energy.

Tom still looks very sad and he’s shaking a bit as he stares at Jake. “Can I give you a hug? Is that okay? It’s fine if you don’t want one. I just really…”

As Jake stares at Tom with wide eyes, he’s filled with excitement. Can he really get a hug from Tom? Is that really going to happen?! He’s been waiting for so long! He’s about to reach for Tom…

…when he remembers why he hasn’t been allowed to get any Tom-hugs lately. He hasn’t earned that right. He’s at some ridiculously high number for his cuts and he’s not allowed to have any Tom-hugs or watch his parents’ video until he’s back down to five. His face crumbling, Jake starts to cry. He wants to hug Tom so badly and Tom’s right here! Tom’s so close to him. Tom’s full of love and warmth and Jake so desperately wants all of that. But he hasn’t earned it.

“Jake? What’s wrong? You don’t have to hug me if you don’t wanna. I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”

Jake lets out a sob. “I do want a hug. I want one so badly, but I haven’t earned it,” he chokes out. His sadness is making him cold again and he pulls the blanket back over his shoulders.

Tom lets out a gasp for some reason, but Jake’s too focused on how devastated he is. Maybe this is part of his punishment for doing so badly with the cutting? Tom will stay here and not allow Jake to hug him and he’ll always stay just out of reach?

“What happened to your hands?! No, never mind that right now. What do mean you haven’t earned it?” Tom asks softly.

Jake keeps crying and waves a hand at the wall and his paper on the floor. “I can’t get my cutting done. I tried so hard, but I can’t do it. But I want a hug so badly and I want to watch the video, but I can’t until I get back down to five. Those are the rules.”

Tom’s quiet for a moment. Then: “Tell me more about these rules.”

Jake frowns at him through his tears because obviously Tom knows the rules! But maybe Tom wants to make sure that Jake knows the rules? He’s not in the mood for conversation, but ignoring Tom would be rude and Jake’s still hoping that maybe Tom will change his mind and give him a little hug before Jake has to get back to his cutting.

Jake reaches out with a shaking hand and pulls one of his papers close to him. Unfortunately, it’s covered in crossed-out numbers, so that’s not the right one. It takes some searching, but Jake finally finds the right one , along with the depressing number he has to do. “I have to do 6390 cuts.”

“I see. You mean you have to cut yourself 6390 times?” Tom’s voice sounds strained.

The stupidity of that sentence makes Jake stop crying and stare at Tom. “Myself?! No. I have to do it on the wall.” He waves at the wall behind him.

“You’re cutting on the wall?”

“Yes. I used pasta but I ran out. Now I use the wall.”

“I see. Jake…what happened to your hands?”

At first, Jake doesn’t understand Tom’s question. He’s so used to his hands hurting and being covered in the dirty bandages that it’s become normal. He sighs softly. He hates admitting his weakness to Tom, but Tom already knows how badly Jake’s been performing lately. Adding a bit more humiliation on top of that won’t make things worse. “I hurt them doing the cutting. I didn’t do a good job.”

“How did you hurt your hands if you’re cutting the wall?”

Jake flushes from embarrassment and hides his bandaged hands under his blanket. “My hands hurt and I didn’t pick up the knife properly and I accidentally cut myself. It was dumb.”

“I don’t think it was dumb,” Tom says softly.

Jake scoffs at him. “No competent chef would cut themselves as much as I have. It’s pathetic.”

To Jake’s surprise, Tom doesn’t laugh at him. “Tell me more about the rules. You have to do 6390 cuts on the wall?”

Jake’s exhausted, he the faster he answers Tom’s questions, the faster the conversation will be done. “Yes. They need to be 1/4 inch long and be at 1/4 inch spacing. If I screw up, I have to add five more cuts to my total. If I get the whole set done then…then I get to go back down to five cuts and I get my rewards.”

“What are your rewards?”

Jake can’t help but smile when he thinks about all of his rewards. “I get to order more food. I only have a bit of cereal left and I’m really hungry, so that’ll be nice. And I get to sleep on the couch again and eat bananas and apples. But the best rewards are that I get a Tom-hug and I get to watch the video of my parents on the waterslide. I’m really excited about the last two things. Those are the best ones.”

“I see.” Tom’s voice is shaking a bit, which is odd and he takes a few deep breaths before he keeps talking. “You know why I asked you what the rules are?”

Jake shakes his head. “No. You know all of this already.”

“Sure I do. But the rules have changed recently.”

That’s not good news. Jake stares at Tom, his heart sinking. He’s already doing so badly and he’s so close to dying—he can’t possibly follow stricter rules! But complaining about it won’t change anything. If Tom says the rules have changed, then the rules have changed. “What are the new rules?” Jake mumbles, feeling completely dejected.

“First of all, you get to eat as much food as you want and whenever you want.”

Jake gapes at him. That doesn’t sound right.

But Tom’s still talking. “And you get to sleep on the couch or if you want, you get to sleep on a bed whenever you want. And you get as many Tom-hugs as you want and you get to watch the video whenever you want.”

That all sounds amazing! But Jake can’t understand why the rules would suddenly be relaxed like this. It doesn’t sound right. Is Tom trying to trick him? “That doesn’t sound right.”

“Those are the new rules, I promise.”

“Who—who made these new rules?”

“I did. And I’m part of your rewards, so I get to change the rules whenever I want, remember?”

Jake doesn’t remember that. But it makes sense. He stares at Tom. “So you changed the rules?”

“Yeah. I realized the rules were way too strict. They made it impossible for you to get to your rewards. That’s not fair, is it?”

“A competent chef could do it.”

Tom shuffles closer to him and stares at him earnestly. “No. No chef in the entire world could do 6390 perfect cuts in a row. They couldn’t even do 5000 or 2000. That’s impossible, and giving you an impossible task isn’t fair, is it?”

“No, it’s not.” This conversation is moving too quickly, but Jake likes the direction it’s going in. Tom sounds logical and the whole thing makes sense. Maybe the reason he’s been failing isn’t because he’s incompetent but because the task was impossible? But there’s one last thing he has to verify. “Do my parents agree that it’s impossible and I get to use the new rules?”

“Definitely! They want you to start using the new rules right away and so do I.”

Jake stares at Tom. This all sounds too good to be true! “So I get to eat whenever I want?”

“Yeah. And you get to eat whatever you want too. No more rules about food. Ever.”

“And I get to sleep on the couch?”

“Or on the bed.”

Jake blinks. His heart is beginning to race at the thought of how wonderful this will be. “And how many blankets can I use?”

“As many as you want. And you get to wear clean clothes and wear whatever clothes you want. No more rules about clothes or sleeping.”

He’s beginning to shake from excitement, but as he stares at Tom, he remembers the best part of the rule changes. He gets to have Tom-hugs and watch the video! But he needs to confirm. He still can’t believe there isn’t a catch behind all these wonderful new rules. “And when do I get Tom-hugs? And how many do I get? Is there a daily limit or an annual limit?”

Tom’s face crumbles and Jake notices he’s started crying at some point. Tom squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath before he stares at Jake, his eyes shimmering with tears. “There aren’t any limits on Tom-hugs. Ever. You can have as many as you want, whenever you want and they can last as long as you want, I promise.”

The thought of getting to have unlimited hugs from Tom for the rest of his life is so overwhelming that Jake starts crying again, shaking with joy. “Really?” He chokes out.

Tom nods frantically. “Really. I promise.” Then Tom holds out his arms in that familiar gesture. “The new rules have already started, so you can have a hug whenever you want.”

His heart thudding in his chest, Jake’s moving before he’s even aware of it and he shuffles right into Tom’s arms and collapses against him. Tom wraps his arms around him and the blanket, holding him very tight.

Pressing his face against Tom’s warm neck, Jake can’t stop crying at how wonderful this feels. Tom’s warm and Jake’s been cold for so long. And Tom smells like Tom and his shirt is so soft against Jake’s face and his arms are holding Jake so tightly.

Tom’s gently rocking them back and forth and his lips press warm kisses against Jake’s temple. “Everything’s gonna get better now. I promise,” Tom chokes out. He must still be crying even though Jake doesn’t know why. “I’m gonna help you and everything’s gonna be okay now.”

This is all amazing, but Jake still can’t believe that Tom’s not going to leave soon. When he does, it’ll be even harder for Jake to go back to his cold, lonely cutting. “How long are you going to stay?” he whispers into Tom’s shirt.

“I’m gonna stay as long as you’ll let me. If you want, I’m gonna stay for the rest of your life,” Tom whispers in a choked voice, his warm lips moving against Jake’s temple as he talks.

That’s amazing. That’s…Jake can’t believe how lucky he is! “Really? You’re going to stay?”

“Yeah, I promise. I’m not leaving you unless you tell me to leave.”

If Jake weren’t so overwhelmed with crying and soaking up Tom’s warmth, he’d laugh at how absurd that statement is. He’ll never tell Tom to leave. Never ever. Why would he ever do that?! He wants to point this out, but all this excitement and being held in the warmth of Tom’s arms is making him really sleepy again. His heart sinks when he realizes he’ll have to pull away from Tom and go back to sleeping on the cold, hard floor…until he remembers the amazing new rules! “Tom?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m really tired.”

Tom kisses his temple again. “I know you are, buddy. I know.”

“I don’t have to sleep on the floor again, right?”

Tom’s arms squeeze him tighter as he draws in a shaky breath. “No. Never again, I promise.”

For a while, there’s silence. It’s so comfortable and warm in Tom’s arms that Jake slowly begins to doze as Tom rubs his back and kisses the side of his head. Jake would love to stay here for the rest of his life.

“Hey, Jake?” Tom asks softly.

“Yes?” Jake mumbles into Tom’s shirt. It’s so hard to talk. He’s so tired.

“I forgot one more rule.”

Tensing, Jake opens his eyes and prepares for the worst. He doesn’t want to lose his Tom-hugs! He needs his Tom-hugs. They’re warm and full of love. He can’t lose his Tom-hugs! He can’t—

“Shhh…calm down, it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere, I promise. But I have to tell you about the new rule.”

“Okay…”

“The new rule is that we have to visit the hospital.”

Jake frowns, alarmed at the thought of Tom being sick. “Why? Are you sick?”

“No, but you are.”

That’s ridiculous. “I’m not sick. I’m a little tired and hungry, but I’m not sick.”

Tom’s arms tighten around him. “Okay, I know you’re not sick, but the stupid hospital people are part of the rules. They need to see that you’re eating right and sleeping right before you’re allowed to do more cutting.”

Jake doesn’t like that. He doesn’t want to go to the stupid hospital. He needs to stay here and do his cutting. “I need to stay by my wall. I need to do my cutting.”

“I know, but the new rules are really complex. You can’t do any cutting until the hospital people say you’ve slept and eaten enough.”

Going to the hospital wouldn’t normally be a big deal. He’s never had to go to the hospital before but he doesn’t think it’ll be scary. But he hates the idea of being so far from his wall. When the hospital staff say he’s ready to do more cutting, he needs to be close to his wall. No, it’s better to stay here. He just has to convince Tom to let him stay here. “I think it’ll be better if I stay here.”

“I know you don’t wanna go, but those are the rules. You gotta follow them, right?”

That’s true…but Jake can’t push aside the panic that’s welling up inside of him. “I need to do my cutting.”

“I know you do, and you can get back to your cutting once the hospital people say you can.”

It seems Tom’s not budging and Jake desperate tries one more tactic. “What if…what if the hospital people come here? I’ll sleep on my bed and be really good and do whatever they say.”

“You can’t sleep on your bed cause it has the fruit bowl on it and the bedroom’s full of fruit flies.”

That derails Jake’s panicked thoughts and he frowns. That’s bizarre. “Oh. Why is the fruit bowl on my bed?”

“I have no idea. I think you put it there and I’m sure you did it for a good reason. But the fruit’s gone bad and…anyway, we can deal with that later. The hospital has a clean, warm bed that you can sleep in.”

Sleeping in a warm bed sounds amazing, but Jake can’t imagine leaving his wall behind. But then he remembers that he hadn’t always done his cutting on the wall. If he has his knife and ruler with him, he can do his cuts anywhere, can’t he? “Okay, I’ll go to the hospital. But I can bring my knife and ruler with me, right?”

Tom sighs softly. “No, buddy. I’m sorry. They won’t let you bring your knife. Your ruler’s okay, but not the knife.”

But that won’t work at all! Panic slams through him again and his heart starts to pound from fear. He needs his knife! He _needs_ his knife! How can he do his cutting if he doesn’t have his knife?! His cut total will keep sitting at whatever horrible number it is and stay a dark, taunting number. He needs to keep working on it!

“Jake? What’s wrong? Are you upset cause you can’t bring your knife?”

Jake struggles to talk amid his tightening throat. He’s so panicked that tears well up in his eyes again. “I need to do my cutting. I need—I need to do my cutting. I need to do my cutting. I need to—to do my cutting. I need—”

“Shhh…take a breath, okay? Calm down.”

But Jake can’t calm down as his heart races. He needs to do his cutting and Tom’s not understanding how vitally important that is. Jake can’t just waltz off to the hospital and waste time there. He needs to do his cutting. He needs to do his cutting. The total can’t just stay at that ridiculously high number while he does nothing!

He keeps telling Tom over and over again that he needs to do his cutting. He’s so scared about not getting to do it that he can’t explain why he needs to do it—he just knows that he absolutely needs to do it. He needs to bring his total down. He needs to do that! Why can’t Tom understand that?!

Tom keeps holding him and trying to calm him down, but that’s not helping. The only thing that will help is being allowed to bring his knife to the hospital, but Tom said that’s not possible and that means they’re stuck. Jake keeps crying and mumbling as he shakes in Tom’s arms.

Eventually, he overhears Tom saying something that doesn’t seem to be directed at Jake. He’s telling somebody Jake’s room number and saying that Jake’s “having a panic attack”, which is ridiculous. Jake’s not having an attack. He just needs to do his cutting. He needs to do his cutting and Tom’s not understanding that. He needs to do his cutting because he needs to bring his number down. His number can’t sit at that ridiculously high number. It needs to come down and the only way to do that is to do his cutting. Which he needs his knife for. It’s very simple and that’s why Jake’s getting even more upset that Tom isn’t understanding the situation.

While Jake keeps mumbling, trying to explain the situation, Tom keeps holding him, wrapped around him like a warm blanket and quietly talking to him.

“It’s gonna be okay, I promise. We’re getting you help, okay? I know you’re tired and scared and I’m gonna stay with you, I promise. I love you and nothing bad’s gonna happen, okay? I love you so much and everything’s gonna be okay.”

“I need to do my cutting. I ne—need to do my cutting. I need to do my cutting. I need to do my cutting.”

It goes on and on and on and Jake has no idea how long he stays in Tom’s arms, saying the same words over and over again.

His world only exists of Tom’s warm body surrounding his own, Tom’s quiet words murmuring in his ear and that heart clenching panic in Jake’s chest that’s growing worse as time goes on. Jake gets more and more tired and he eventually can’t keep his eyes open anymore.

“It’s okay, Jake. Just go to sleep. They gave you a sedative, buddy. I’ll be right here with you, I promise.”

Then Jake only manages to mumble his desperate request one more time before he’s drifting off into sleep.


	22. Chapter 22

Staring at the array of machines surrounding Jake’s hospital bed, Tom can’t tear his eyes off Jake, his heart still clenching with pain at everything that’s happened.

Jake looks so pale and fragile on the hospital bed with dozens of IVs and sensors stuck to him and a thin feeding tube going down his nose and into his stomach. The staff had shaved Jake’s patchy beard off when they had to tape the feeding tube to his cheek but the removal of the beard only helps to emphasize how gaunt his face is. He’s still sleeping from the sedation and the hospital staff said they’ll keep him sedated until tomorrow.

Jake’s in such bad shape that he needs to stay still and let the IVs and feeding tube provide him with the life-saving nutrients that his body badly needs. They’re all worried that he’ll wake up and go into another meltdown over not being allowed to do his stupid cutting thing and that would use up the last bit of energy his body has. The staff had told him if Jake doesn’t let himself recover, he’s going to die. Soon.

The staff had confirmed all of Tom’s worst fears. Jake has slowly been starving himself to death and hadn’t been drinking enough water. He’s lost a quarter of his body weight and his body is rapidly shutting down. One of the nurses had commented that she’d only seen one similar case—and that person had been stuck in their vehicle after a car accident in a remote area and they had been trapped for more than a month.

Tom still can’t believe that this happened. Jake wasn’t stuck in a desert or the middle of the ocean. He wasn’t trapped in a car or being kept captive by somebody.

But then Tom realizes that’s not true. Jake  _has_ been kept captive over the last two months. By his own mind.

Jake has billions of dollars in his bank account. He could have bought himself as much food as he wanted, from anywhere in the world. But that’s not the biggest problem. Jake was living in a hotel room full of food and he’d purposefully not allowed himself to touch any of it. A few hours ago, Tom had quickly gone back to the hotel to grab a few essential items—like Jake’s ruler, Jake’s cellphone with his parents’ video and some clean clothes for himself—and Tom had looked around Jake’s apartment to get a better idea of what he’d been doing and the results had been devastating.

The fridge is full of food, including that beautiful cake Jake had made for Brian’s birthday. Some of the food has gone bad but the rest is edible. The freezer is also full of food that Jake had previously cooked and frozen. His pantry is the only area that seemed to have less food than normal, but it too has plenty of items that Jake could have been eating.

But he hadn’t been. He’s spent two months slowly starved himself to death in a room full of food, all because his mind had convinced him not to eat.

And Jake’s beautiful hands!

The staff had unwrapped the dirty bandages Jake had put on them and they look horrible. They’re swollen and covered in cuts, some of which are infected. Tom loves Jake’s hands, but there’s one person in the world who had loved and relied on his hands even more than Tom, and that’s Jake. His talented hands that feel so amazing when they’re touching Tom and can create such beautiful desserts are now a mangled mess.

And once again—Jake did that to himself because his mind forced him to. His hands look like he’s been in a physical fight with someone, but Jake’s only been fighting against himself, and losing. He’s been torturing himself for two months because his mind told him to.

And worst of all, Tom had spent those two months right on the other side of the damn wall! He’d been literally just inches away from Jake. He should have worked harder to find out if Jake was still at the hotel. Their fight two months ago had been so out of character for Jake. Tom shouldn’t have left things as they were. He loves Jake and he should have fought much harder to figure out what was going on with him. The guilt is devastating.

Then there’s the constant fear of losing Jake that’s keeping him glued to this chair. The staff had told him that there’s a possibility that Jake’s heart or other systems will just shut down because he’s so weak. The staff are doing their best to give him the nutrients, water and warmth that his body desperately needs and they’re doing it at a pace that will hopefully not send his body into shock, but it’s a possibility.

Sliding his chair closer to Jake, Tom gently lays his hand on Jake’s arm, avoiding Jake’s damaged hands.

“I can’t lose you,” Tom whispers, staring at Jake’s pale face as he sleeps. “I’m so damn sorry that I didn’t come sooner. I know you’ve been suffering and I know that’s partially my fault, but please don’t give up.”

Tears well up in his eyes and he clenches his jaw so he doesn’t start crying again. Leaning over, he gently kisses Jake on the forehead. “I love you and I can’t lose you, okay? Please keep fighting,” he whispers against Jake’s skin before kissing him again.

His only response is the quiet beep of Jake’s heart monitor, which sounds way too slow for Tom’s liking.

* * *

Tom’s very fond of the IV bags that are slowly bringing life saving nutrients and water into Jake’s body. He loves watching the nurses hang up new bags and the fluids in them slowly decrease as they move through the IVs and into Jake’s body, which is eagerly soaking them up.

He wishes he could somehow transfer his own strength and energy into Jake. If such a thing were possible, he would hook himself up to IVs and connect them directly to Jake. Tom would give him nearly every drop of life he has. He’d only keep enough that he wouldn’t die himself, but every other drop would go to Jake.

He’s not the only one who’s worried sick about Jake. He’d charged Jake’s phone and turned it on but unfortunately, he can’t get past Jake’s lock screen so he can’t check to see if other people have been trying to contact Jake, but Chesa’s definitely on the list of people who are worried about him.

She’d been hysterical when the paramedics had come to Jake’s room to bring him to the hospital. She’d been hovering around Tom’s open door when they’d come, but she’d run into the room after them when they had arrived. Tom hadn’t understood a word she’d been saying due to her crying and the fact that she had been speaking Tagalog, but the emotions were clear: she felt as guilty and devastated as Tom did.

She’d also been shocked at the condition of Jake’s room. Maybe in an effort to feel like she was doing something more to help Jake, she’d told Tom she would scrub it top to bottom before Jake comes back from the hospital, but Tom had told her to hold off. At this point, Tom has no idea if Jake will ever make a full recovery, but if he does, then he’ll be humiliated if he finds out that other people had cleaned up the mess he had created. Jake’s always made it clear that he doesn’t think its appropriate for people to demand more from people than their job descriptions entail. And throwing out mountains of rotting food and covering up the damage Jake had done to the walls is far beyond what Chesa’s normal duties would be. So for now, Tom tells her to leave Jake’s room as it is. He’d promised to keep her updated and Jake will let her know when he’s ready to see her.

Jake has been sleeping for two days, mostly because of his body’s own exhaustion and how close to death he is. The staff are giving him a mild sedative, but they say that Jake wouldn’t be sleeping this deeply if his body were at normal strength.

While Tom would do anything to see Jake open his eyes and smile at him, he knows this is better. Thankfully, Jake’s body is soaking up everything the hospital is giving him and he hasn’t had any major setbacks. The staff think he’s doing well and might make a full recovery, but his mental state is a whole other question.

During his conversation with Jake in his hotel room, Tom had struggled to put together what Jake had been telling him. The fact that Jake had set himself a task—something related to his knife skills—was fine and the way he’d set clear punishments for himself when he couldn’t accomplish what he’d set out to do was a very Jake-like thing to do. But at some point, his OCD had taken control of Jake’s simple exercise and it had turned into a deadly obsession that Jake hadn’t been able to stop. And that’s a big problem.

Jake’s OCD has always been an amusing quirk that Tom finds equally endearing and annoying, while Jake never considered it to be a problem. He’s never even accepted that he suffers from OCD in the first place. Up to now, Jake’s denial had only amused Tom. It’s clear as day that Jake’s incessant need to measure everything and make everything perfect and symmetrical was an obsessive behavior, but it hadn’t been doing Jake any harm.

Until now.

Tom had been devastated when he’d started to realize that all of Jake’s self-destructive behavior had been driven by his OCD. Maybe his grief had left Jake more vulnerable for the disease to take over or he’d found solace in the distraction that the obsessive behavior had provided?

While getting distracted by a simple obsession is fine, the compulsiveness of Jake’s illness has clearly become a huge problem. He’d set himself a ridiculous task and when he couldn’t achieve it, his illness forced him to punish himself and that cycle had repeated over and over again. Tom has no idea when Jake completely lost control of the situation, but the fact that he said his cut total would increase by five each time he messed up and he’d been at 6390…that paints a horrendous picture.

Jake had barricaded himself into his hotel room for two months. He had his phone within easy reach the entire time with the entire hotel staff just a phone call away and with Tom just on the other side of the wall. And yet, Jake hadn’t called for help because his illness had convinced him not to. His OCD had convinced him that his own life is less important than obeying the OCD’s commands.

The amusement that Tom’s always felt towards Jake’s OCD has now disappeared and it’s been replaced by anger. That illness has become a cruel, dark being that’s dug its claws into Jake’s mind and nearly made him kill himself.

That’s why Tom’s a bit relieved that Jake’s still sleeping. Once he wakes up, he’ll no doubt want to do the OCD’s bidding again and Tom’s terrified of what will happen if Tom can’t help Jake break free.

Tom hadn’t wanted to disrespect Jake’s privacy, but when he’d told the doctors that he was Jake’s boyfriend—maybe that’s not a label Jake wants him to have anymore, but Tom wouldn’t have been told about Jake’s condition or been allowed to stay in his hospital room if he’d just said Jake was a friend—the staff had assumed that Tom had been abusing Jake and that misunderstanding would have led to a whole other nightmare. So Tom had no choice but to explain that Jake’s condition was self-inflicted and he’s struggling with mental health issues. The staff have already mentioned that they have therapy options available and Jake will have to make use of them before being discharged—unless Jake signs himself out against medical advice.

Tom’s very scared that Jake will wake up and decide to go back to his hotel room and resume the self-destructive behavior that will lead to his death. But as scared as Tom is, he also knows that he won’t give in to Jake’s illness. Jake’s very weak and isn’t capable of fighting off the clutches of his illness on his own, but when it comes to his well being, Tom will find whatever strength he needs to help him fight. If Jake’s still trapped in his own mind and can’t get away from those claws, Tom will find a way to help him. It doesn’t matter what he has to do; Tom will use very ounce of strength he has to get Jake away from this dark monster that’s taken control of his mind.

So despite his fears, Tom spends his hours sitting by Jake’s bedside, gently rubbing Jake’s arm with one hand while his other scrolls on his phone, reading about OCD and gathering as much information about this horrible monster as possible.

* * *

On the third day, Tom’s going through his phone and dealing with his own mess. He’d been so worried about Jake that he’d completely forgotten about his client sessions and he’d forgotten to cancel them. His phone is full of angry texts and voicemails and then Tom makes things worse for his poor clients by telling them he has to cancel sessions for at least the next two weeks.

Many of his clients are understandably annoyed because this is the third time in six months that Tom’s canceled a long stretch of sessions, but Tom doesn’t care. He and Jake have been dealing with incredibly traumatic situations lately—first Tom being attacked, then Jake’s parents dying and now Jake nearly dying—and despite none of those things being his clients’ faults, they’re not Tom’s priority right now. Even if he loses his entire client base and has to start from scratch, that’s fine. Taking care of Jake is more important than anything else. No matter how much his clients complain, argue or offer to increase their payments, Tom doesn’t care. As he stares down at Jake quietly sleeping, the only emotions he feels are his intense love for Jake and his desire to take care of him. Nothing else matters.

But then he comes across a voicemail from the hotel, which completely changes everything. It’s one of the hotel managers and he tells Tom that the hotel knows he’d broken into ‘a guest’s’ hotel room without authorization and thus, Tom is now banned from the hotel. As long as Tom continues paying for his room, his belongings will be allowed to stay, but Tom is never allowed to step foot in a Seever Hotel again.

Tom’s first reaction is panic, but not for himself. He couldn’t care less if he’s been kicked out of the hotel. Not being allowed to stay at a Seever Hotel ever again is so far down his list of concerns right now that Tom deletes the voicemail message without a second thought. But he’s worried about Chesa. The voice mail hadn’t mentioned anybody else being punished for what Tom had done, but that’s not surprising. If Chesa was punished, it would be an internal issue that they wouldn’t tell Tom about.

No matter what happens, Tom doesn’t want Chesa losing her job. Her bravery and caring nature had literally saved Jake’s life. If she hadn’t told him that Jake was still at the hotel and hadn’t allowed anybody into his room for two months, Tom wouldn’t have broken in. Just the thought of what would have happened if he hadn’t ever broken in or if he’d broken in weeks or months later is so devastating that Tom doesn’t let himself think about it. So it doesn’t matter what happens to him, but he wants to make sure Chesa’s okay.

Leaning over Jake, Tom brushes a kiss over his forehead. “I’ll be right back, okay? I gotta make a phone call.”

Heading out of Jake’s room, Tom goes out to the courtyard behind the hotel where patients can go to stretch their legs and he calls the hotel and asks to be put through to the manager who had left him the message.

“Daryl speaking. How can I help you?”

“Hi, Daryl. This is Tom Carlson. I got your message.”

“Mr. Carlson. Thank you for contacting me.” Daryl’s tone has completely changed from the chirpy, generic customer-service voice to a flat, cold tone.

Tom smiles wryly. This isn’t going to be a fun conversation, but he needs to make sure Chesa’s okay. But before he can cut to the chase, Daryl decides to make sure Tom understands why he’s being banned, as if he’s afraid Tom’s going to argue.

“Hotel Seever takes our guests privacy very seriously. Violating that privacy isn’t tolerated, either by staff or by other guests. But you didn’t only invade a guest’s privacy; you broke into his hotel room without authorization.”

Tom rolls his eyes. Daryl’s making it sound like Tom’s a deranged drunk who went on a rampage. “You were there when the paramedics loaded Jake into the ambulance. If I hadn’t broken in, he would have died.”

Daryl’s silent for a moment. Then: “I feel awful about Mr. Seever’s situation and what he’s been going through, but we have procedures in place for these kinds of situations. The moment you suspected something was wrong, you should have come to management and we would have conducted an investigation. If we had determined that Mr. Seever was in danger, we would have contacted the police and had them perform a wellness check. Mr. Seever would have received the help he needed anyway. But you decided to disregard hotel policy and barge into a guest’s room. That’s completely unacceptable.”

“I understand that.” Tom really does. He should have involved hotel management, but that had been the furthest thing from his mind. He could lie to himself and say that he was trying to protect Jake’s privacy as long as possible, but that’s bullshit. Tom was terrified about Jake’s condition and he needed to be the first in that room. He needed to be the one to reach Jake first. If he had let the professionals deal with it, Tom wouldn’t have been allowed to talk to Jake and hold him in his arms and that’s not a plan Tom would have gone along with. At the end of the day, the only thing Tom would change about what he’d done is that he’d break down Jake’s door the morning after their fight and not wait two damn months. But everything else would stay the same.

“Then you understand why your permanent ban from all Seever properties is non-negotiable.”

Tom still doesn’t care about that. “Yes, sir. I’m not arguing. I accept the ban and I’ll continue paying for the room while Jake’s in the hospital. Once he’s released, I’ll come by to pick up my stuff. That’s not the point of this call. The reason I’m calling is to make it crystal clear that I acted alone when I broke into Jake’s room.”

There’s a beat of silence from Daryl, as if this information changes things. That little bit of silence tells Tom that he was right and the hotel suspects that Chesa had something to do with it.

“We’re currently conducting a full investigation into the matter but we’ve already identified a staff member who possibility assisted you.”

“Has she been reprimanded yet?”

“I—no. We’re still conducting an investigation.”

“Well, you can stop that investigation right now. Nobody else helped me out of their own free will. I was worried about Jake, I decided to break in and I forced Chesa to give me her master keycard and the key for the deadbolt. She had no choice in the matter. I intimidated her and threatened her. Are you really going to punish her for giving in when she was in a hostage situation?”

Maybe that’s laying it on a bit thick and Daryl starts saying “Calling it a hostage situation is a bit—” but Tom keeps right on going. He needs to save Chesa’s job. She deserves it and she saved Jake’s life.

“I threatened her job, I threatened her family, her life and everything else she holds dear. Would you really punish a hardworking employee who’s been loyal to Seever Hotel for twenty years because she gave in when somebody was being abusive to her?!”

Daryl’s only response is a soft sigh and Tom grins, mentally celebrating. But time for one more shot. “When Jake is back on his feet, I know he’d be devastated to find out that Chesa’s been fired. She’s been his housekeeper for years and he’s already lost his parents. Punishing Chesa for this would hurt both of them and that wouldn’t resolve the situation. I’m the only one who did something wrong and I’m accepting my punishment.”

Tom thinks he did a great job with that speech and he holds his breath as he waits.

Finally: “Alright, Mr. Carlson. I’m accepting your version of events and I’m satisfied that we’ve addressed this situation adequately. Beyond your ban, I don’t feel any other consequences are warranted. I’ll close the investigation.”

Tom grins. “Thank you. Jake will be very happy to hear that when he’s recovered.”

“Please give Mr. Seever our best. Everybody at the hotel is worried about him and we’re hoping he’ll make a full recovery. If he needs anything, please have him call us.”

His concern sounds genuine and Tom smiles. “Thank you. That’ll mean a lot to him.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Have a good day.”

“You too. Bye.”


	23. Chapter 23

The first thing Jake notices is that he’s warm. That’s very unusual. Frowning, Jake keeps his eyes closed and assesses the situation. Is the sun streaming into his room and making him warm? The place close to his wall where he usually sleeps is never touched directly by the sun, but maybe that’s changed?

But no, other things have changed. That constant, gnawing hunger in his stomach is gone. But best of all, his hands don’t hurt. That excruciating pain has been a constant part of his life for so long and now…it’s gone. But as Jake thinks about it, it suddenly occurs to him that it’s actually concerning. Maybe his hands don’t hurt because they’d broken off?! That would be a huge problem! How can he do his cuts if he doesn’t have hands?!

He needs to see. He needs to make sure! It’s a struggle to open his eyes and he’s as exhausted as he usually is, but he manages to get his eyes open…and then he gets an even bigger shock.

He’s not in his hotel room. He’s in a strange room and he’s lying on a bed that’s not his own. There’s a warm blanket covering him, but Jake can’t appreciate the warmth when he’s worried over how the hell he got from his hotel room to here. Wherever ‘here’ might be. Panic starts creeping through him and there’s a stupid beeping noise that’s getting louder and louder and—

“Jake? Oh, my God. Jake?!” Somebody lets out a relieved laugh.

Jake jerks his head over towards the source of the sound and that’s when all his panic and concerns disappear. Because Tom’s sitting next to his bed.

Tom. His Tom. His wonderful Tom who Jake loves so much and who makes Jake’s heart light up. Seeing him sitting there so close makes Jake smile. He’s still tired, but he can’t help it. Tom makes him smile all the time just by being Tom.

Tom’s smiling his big, bright smile that Jake loves so much and Tom leans closer to him and gently touches his arm. “Hey, buddy. How you feeling?”

Jake can’t stop staring at Tom. Tom’s here! Tom’s actually here! Jake almost feels like he’s drunk—overwhelmed with love and joy at having him right here. “Please stay,” he whispers. His voice sounds rough, but it’s so important for Tom to stay.

Tom’s eyes look a bit sad, but he gently squeezes Jake’s arm. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise. Sometimes I might leave for a few minutes to use the bathroom or have a shower, but that’s right here, in your room. I go down to the cafeteria twice a day to get a bunch of food, but that’s all. I’m not leaving.”

Relief rushes through Jake and he wants to cry. Tom’s here and he’s going to stay! “Are you going to help me do the cutting?”

Tom’s smile stays bright. “Of course! You gotta rest for a while longer and then I’ll help you do the cutting.”

That makes Jake feel so good! He’s had such difficulty doing his cutting but if Tom helps him, he might be able to finally make some good progress. That reminds him that he needs to check on his hands! His heart racing and that stupid beeping noise still ringing in his ears, Jake looks down and to his relief, both of his hands are there.

“Jake? What’s wrong, buddy? You gotta stay calm.”

“I was—I thought my hands were gone,” he mumbles.

Tom clenches his jaw and his smile gets a bit strained. “Nope, they’re still there. But you gotta be really gentle with them, okay? They’ve been hurt really bad and you can’t use them for a while.”

He gapes at Tom. That’s not good. That’s not good at all! How is he supposed to do his cutting if he can’t use his hands? Panic squeezes his chest and Jake struggles to breathe as the machine gets louder.

Tom bends over him and puts a gentle hand on his face. “Hey, hey, hey. You gotta calm down, okay? Please. They’ll—”

Two people Jake doesn’t know burst into his room and hoover over him, joining Tom as they all peer down at him with concern. One of them is giving him a hard look and she tells him: “Jake, we need you to calm down, please. If you can’t calm down, we’ll have to sedate you again.”

But Jake can’t calm down and he can’t breathe properly and everything’s a mess and he needs to use his hands to do his cutting! He needs—

“Alright, let’s get him some—”

“No, please! Let me try to calm him down for a few minutes, okay? I know why he’s upset and I think I can calm him down.”

Jake needs to do his cutting! He’s already wasted hours, days, possible _weeks_ being here and he needs to do his cutting. He was at a really high number and that’s unacceptable. It needs to go down but he can’t do that unless he can do his cutting. And how can he do his cutting if he can’t use his hands?! He needs to—

“Jake? Look at me.”

Tom’s warm hands are on his face now and he’s looking at Jake intently. Seeing Tom so close makes his heart glow again, but the panic is much stronger and can’t be pushed aside. “Tom, I…I need to do my cutting. I need—”

Tom’s fingers gently touch his lips, stopping his flood of anxious words. “I know. You gotta do your cutting but you’re worried about your hands. I already thought of a solution.”

That makes some of Jake’s panic fade and he smiles up at Tom. “You did?”

“Uh huh.” Tom’s giving him a soft smile and his warm thumbs are rubbing Jake’s cheeks. There’s something itchy attached to his cheek and nose, but Jake ignores it. That’s not important. What’s important is that Tom has a solution for the hands problem.

“We’re gonna do the cutting together. There’s a new rule that says if your hands are hurt, you can’t use your hands to do it but you can have a substitute do it. I’m gonna be your substitute.”

That sounds great…but it also sounds way too good to be true and Jake frowns. “I have to do my own cuts. That’s the whole point.”

“No. The whole point is to get your number down, but you’re allowed to have substitute hands doing the cutting. As long as you’re touching my hands while I’m doing it, the cuts count.”

It still sounds odd. “Is that really a new rule?”

“Yep. Your parents approved it.”

Well. Then there’s nothing Jake can do about it. But if this has changed, Jake wonders what else might have changed. Maybe they added more restrictions to make up for the substitution rule making things easier? “Are there any other new rules?”

Tom’s jaw shifts. “Do you remember we talked about the other new rules when we were in your hotel room together?”

Jake frowns. Tom was never in his hotel room while Jake did his cutting. Jake barricaded the door shut. “You’re confused. You couldn’t come into my room because I put the furniture up against the door.”

Sighing softly, Tom gives him a soft smile. “Right. My mistake. Anyway, I talked to your parents and we decided to change some of the rules because they were way too strict and weren’t fair.”

Relief floods Jake and he wants to cry. “Really?” It’s pathetic that Jake needs the rules to be relaxed a bit, but if his parents and Tom all agreed, then that’s what needs to happen. “What are the new rules?”

“You gotta get plenty of rest and not be hungry or thirsty if you wanna do your cutting. And you gotta be warm at all times.”

Jake carefully thinks about these new rules. It’s very hard to think because he’s exhausted and he’s slightly distracted by the itchy thing on his cheek and in his nose again. While he thinks, he lifts his hand to scratch the itch, but Tom gently pushes his hand away.

“That’s your feeding tube. It’s gotta stay there cause it’s helping you meet the requirements of the new rules.”

“But it’s itchy.”

“I know and I’m sorry, but it’s gotta stay there. And touching it will mean violating the rule about letting your hands rest.”

Jake makes a face, but puts his hand back down. Damn Tom for making so much sense. He doesn’t understand why he needs a feeding tube in his nose, but if that’s part of the new rules, then that’s what it is. “Okay.”

It’s hard to focus back on the cutting when the itchiness is distracting, but when he thinks about the cuts he still needs to do, he starts feeling anxious again. As he thinks about whether or not he’s met the new rules yet, another thought occurs to him. He forgot how many cuts he’s at! Oh, where’s his paper?!

Looking around frantically, Jake’s heart starts racing again, but Tom leans over him again. “Jake, calm down. You always gotta tell me when you get panicked over something, okay? That’s another new rule. You gotta tell me right away.”

“I—my—I don’t remember how many,” he whispers, fear tightening his throat. He doesn’t know why he’s so scared about not knowing the number, but it’s vital that he figures it out.

“It’s 6390.”

That makes Jake feel a bit better. Not much, but now he has all the missing pieces. He knows how many cuts he has to do and what he has to do before cutting, so he’ll be able to resume cutting soon. In fact, he’s feeling rested enough and he’s not hungry and he’s definitely warm, so…“I want to do my cutting.”

“You didn’t rest enough yet.”

Jake frowns at him. “Yes, I did. I’m rested, I’m not hungry and I’m warm. I’ve met all of your criteria so I need to do my cutting.”

Tom gives him a long look and Jake prepares himself for a fight, but finally Tom sighs. “Okay. But that means I gotta tell you about the new cutting rules.”

Clenching his jaw, Jake glares at him. This is really getting annoying. “How many new rules are there?!”

“As many as it takes to set things up right. Any other stupid questions, Seever?”

Jake narrows his eyes at him, but he sighs and keeps his mouth shut. The faster Tom tells him the new rules, the faster they can get this over with.

“The new rule is that you can only do five cuts at a time. No more. Then you gotta get at least 2 hours of rest before you can start again and you gotta use those two hours to eat, drink water, sleep and stay warm. Then you can do five more.”

Jake clenches his jaw again, feeling annoyed. “If I can only do five, that’ll take forever!”

Tom shrugs. “The rules don’t have a time limit. But five is the maximum number of cuts you’re allowed to do at one time.”

Oh, this is ridiculous! But fine. “Okay, I’ll only do five. Where are my ruler and knife?”

“That’s another new rule. We’re in the hospital, so no knives allowed.”

Jake gapes at him and his irritation at the situation has reached a whole new level. He’s a little disconcerted at being told he’s in the hospital—he has no idea how he got here or why he’s at the hospital—but that’s not as important as the news that he’s not allowed to use his knife. “How am I supposed to do my cutting without my knife?!”

“The cuts don’t have to be done with a knife. They need to be a certain length and at a certain spacing, but they don’t need to be cuts.”

Tom’s an idiot. “Of course they need to be cuts!”

“Which rule states that they need to be cuts? Cause I know all the rules and I know it’s not in there.”

That makes Jake pause. He tries to remember where he’d read or been told that the whole exercise has to be done by cutting…but he can’t remember. He can’t even remember when this whole thing had started. His entire life has consisted of doing a certain number of cuts…but what if they really don’t need to be cuts? But that doesn’t make any sense. “What am I supposed to use if I’m not using a knife? It’s the most precise instrument to use for cutting, and precision is the whole point.”

“You’re gonna use a pencil and a piece of paper.” Tom sounds so certain about this, like he’s read the entire rule book while Jake’s been blindly fumbling around and interpreting the bits and pieces of the rules he’d been told. Maybe that’s precisely what happened and Jake feels equally annoyed and embarrassed that Tom’s much more prepared than he is.

The second Tom mentions a pencil, Jake makes a face because the thought of holding a pencil with his poor hands will be torture, but then he remembers that he’s not allowed to hold the pencil anyway. “So…you’re going to draw the five lines for me?”

“Not exactly. We’re gonna do them together so they still count for your total. You’re gonna supervise.”

Jake’s getting excited over this new way of doing his cutting and he grins. “Can we do it now?”

Tom smiles softly. “Sure. Let me go get the paper and pencil. I’ll be back.”

Waiting for Tom to get back is torture but thinking about getting to do his cutting again makes it bearable and Jake manages to restrain himself from scratching his itchy cheek and nose.

Once Tom returns, he’s smiling as he drops a pad of lined paper and a pencil on Jake’s bed. “Lemme get your ruler. And don’t touch any of that.”

Pressing his lips together, Jake’s vibrating from excitement and his hands itch to pick up the pencil and start doing his cuts. He’ll finally get to bring his 6390 total back down! He can’t wait to make progress! After Tom grabs Jake’s precious ruler, he comes back to his side and slowly sits down on the bed next to him, carefully moving the many wires and tubes out of the way. It’s the first time Jake’s noticing how many things are attached to him and that’s a bit worrisome because he doesn’t know why they’re there or who put them there, but the rules are clear: Jake isn’t allowed to touch anything with his hands so the stupid wires and tubes have to stay.

Then Tom’s body brushes against him and all thoughts of silly wires and tubes disappear. Feeling the heat of Tom’s body so close him, Jake immediately presses his face into Tom’s chest, sighing softly. He doesn’t want to push his luck, but maybe he’ll get a Tom-hug? That would be amazing.

To his delight, Tom wraps his arms around Jake, enveloping him in warmth and love and Jake melts against him, his hands carefully cradled between them.

Tom’s warm lips kiss him on the forehead and Jake loves feeling Tom’s chest rising and falling as he’s breathing. “I wish I could stay here forever,” Jake mumbles.

Chuckling softly, Tom rubs his back through the hospital gown he’s wearing. “As long as all the wires and tubes stay where they’re at, we can stay here for hours.”

Being surrounded by Tom’s warmth and love is amazing and Jake finds himself quickly getting sleepy. But that reminds him that he should be working on his cuts. “Tom?”

“Hmm?”

“I need to do my cutting.”

He doesn’t really want to do this cutting, but he has to. No doubt, his enthusiasm has been impacted because getting a Tom-hug is much nicer than doing work, but he’s already been so lazy today.

“Okay. Ready?”

“Yes.”

Tom gently draws back and arranges Jake so Tom’s chest is pressed against Jake’s back and he slides his hands underneath Jake’s arms, carefully moving the wires and tubes out of the way. The pad of lined paper is arranged on Jake’s lap and Tom picks up the pencil. His chin is resting on Jake’s shoulder and Tom kisses his cheek.

“Here’s how we’re gonna do this,” he says, his breath warm against Jake’s cheek. It’s almost enough to ignore the itchiness of the tube that’s taped to his cheek. “You’re gonna gently put your right hand on top of my own. You’re not gonna press down or try to move my hand cause that’s gonna make the lines not count.”

Clenching his jaw, Jake stares down at the faint blue lines on the white paper. “We don’t want that.”

“No, we don’t. So you gotta be good and follow the rules. Put your hand on top of mine.”

Jake gently brings his hand on top of Tom’s. His hand doesn’t hurt, but he’s careful not to press too hard. He needs the cuts to count.

Tom wraps his fingers around the pencil and Jake’s hand curls to wrap around his. “First, we’re gonna organize our work space, okay? Our count’s gonna go on the left and the lines will go on the right. We’re gonna write the total up at the top first, so we can keep track.”

Using the ruler, Tom carefully draws a line down the center of the paper, splitting it into two halves as Jake’s hand drifts along with his. Jake’s frowning, watching and listening. This is very different from how he’d done things before. But he’d done his cutting so badly so these new rules must be designed to give better results. It’s pathetic, but necessary. Having his total continue to grow isn’t acceptable.

Tom writes ‘6390’ in the first line in the left column, before sliding the ruler across to the right column. “Now we’re gonna measure out where we’re gonna do our five lines. 1/4 inch spacing, right?”

“Yes,” Jake mumbles, frowning in concentration as he watches Tom lines up the ruler with one of the blue lines on the paper. Watching Tom’s hand very carefully to make sure he doesn’t screw up, Jake tracks as Tom slowly makes five little notches along the ruler, at 1/4 inch markings. That goes well. Then it’s time to do the cuts. Or lines. They’re lines, not cuts, aren’t they? It’s silly to keep calling them cuts when they’re lines. But does that change things? “Tom?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I call them lines? They’re not cuts.”

“Sure,” Tom mumbles against his cheek.

That’s good. Once the five notches are marked, Tom slides the ruler back to the first one and lines it up. “The blue lines on the paper are exactly 1/4 inch apart, so we don’t have to worry about measuring as we draw the lines. We just have to make sure they’re straight.”

Oh, that makes things much easier! Jake can’t believe he never thought of adding guide lines onto his walls to help him. Needing guides like that is ridiculous, but when somebody’s as incompetent as Jake, he shouldn’t be stupid and ignore things that help him perform better.

Once Tom has the ruler lined up with the first notch, he carefully draws the first line from the top blue line down to the blue line underneath it as Jake’s hand drifts along on top. When it’s done, he slides the ruler away. “What do you think, Jake? Looks good?”

Jake grins as he stares down at the perfect little line. It’s the right length and it’s in the right spot. It’s perfect! “It’s perfect. Only 6389 to go.”

Tom chuckles and kisses him on the cheek. “That’s right. We did great, huh?”

Feeling proud of himself for the first time in ages, Jake nods and leans back against Tom’s solid warmth, gently rubbing his face against Tom’s. He can’t remember when he’d last felt this good.

Together, they slowly draw four more little lines. Tom moves slowly and methodically and Jake never gets concerned over Tom screwing up. Instead, Jake is just overcome with pride and happiness. When they’re done the fifth line, Jake desperately wants to keep going and fill the whole page—no, the whole _pad_ of paper with perfect lines, but Tom reminds him about the new rule. “We can only do five at a time, remember? You gotta get two hours of rest before we can do more. But before that, I have two treats for you.”

Jake makes a face at the five-line limit, but his smile returns when Tom mentions treats. “What are the treats?”

“First, we’re gonna update our count total. Cause we did five perfect lines.”

That’s right! They did five lines and they’re gonna keep going later, but it’s important to keep track of where they’re at.

Tom carefully crosses out the ‘6390’ and writes ‘6385’ in the line below. “There. That’s where we’re gonna do our next five lines when it’s time.”

Jake stares at the ‘6385’. Even though he’s still very far from finally finishing this challenge, it’s been such a very long time since his total has gone down, rather than up. The sense of accomplishment he feels is overwhelming and he wants to cry.

Maybe Tom can sense that he’s tense because he shifts behind him and presses his face against Jake’s. “What’s wrong? You did five perfect lines.”

“I know. It feels really good,” he whispers in a choked voice. “I only have 6385 left. I know that’s a lot and it’s pathetic to feel happy about it, but I do.”

Tom wraps his arms around Jake’s waist and holds him tight. “It’s not pathetic. You did a great job and you deserve to feel happy about that. I’m proud of you.”

Hearing Tom say he’s proud of Jake after those endless days—weeks?—of being alone and not having anybody’s support makes his heart soar and he does start crying a bit.

Tom gently wipes the tears off his cheeks and keeps hugging him. “I’m really proud of you. You worked hard to do these five lines and they look beautiful. And your parents would be proud too.”

Jake is overwhelmed with how grateful he feels for Tom’s presence, his love, his wonderful words, his warmth and everything else. He hasn’t felt this happy in ages.

Tom keeps holding him, wiping the tears off his cheeks and kissing his face as he whispers wonderful things to him. Eventually, Jake calms down enough to remember that Tom had said he gets two treats, not just one. “What’s my second treat?”

Grinning, Tom rubs his back. “Since you did so well with your lines, I think it’s time to get one of the rewards you’ve been waiting for.”

Jake can’t actually remember what his old rewards were right now. He knows food was part of it, but he’s not hungry. “What were my rewards?”

Tom’s smile grows bigger. “You wanna watch your parents’ video? The one with the waterslide?”

At the mention of the video, Jake’s heart begins to race and he’s so excited that he bursts into tears again, shaking and nodding frantically as that silly machine next to him starts beeping again. Unfortunately, that makes the strange people come running again but Jake ignores them as he keeps crying into Tom’s chest.

Tom’s pressing Jake’s face into his chest and keeping his arms wrapped around him, protecting him from strangers who Jake wants nothing to do with. He just wants to watch the video and hear his parents’ voices one more time. Oh, he wants that so badly!

Tom’s saying something to the people and thankfully, they go away after a while.

Jake doesn’t manage to calm down, but he desperately wants to watch the video. “Can we…please…I want…please, Tom,” he whispers in a choked voice.

“We’re gonna watch the video, don’t worry. I just gotta grab your phone. Hang on a second.”

Tom pulls away from him, which makes Jake feel cold and alone but he’s back a moment later and wraps himself back around Jake. But this time, he has Jake’s phone in his hands.

“Here we go,” Tom mumbles, brushing a kiss over Jake’s temple.

Jake eagerly stares at the screen as Tom turns it on and lands on the lock screen. “What’s your passcode?”

“0916.”

Tom sucks in a sharp breath. “Your mom’s birthday?”

Jake can’t take his eyes off the screen where he’ll soon see and hear his parents. His heart’s still racing and he can’t stop vibrating from excitement. “Yes.”

“Okay, here we go.” Tom finds the video and taps it to get it playing.

That familiar sound sound of rushing water fills the room and there’s his mom! She’s smiling and waving at the camera and Jake’s heart soars.

“Hi, Jake! I just came down the slide and your father’s about to come down.”

Hearing his mom’s voice and seeing her smiling at him makes Jake start crying again. He misses her so much! He wishes he could pull her out of the phone. He wishes she would suddenly come into the hospital room and tell him she’s so sorry and there was a big misunderstanding and their flight just got delayed.

He’s crying so hard that Tom presses the button to stop video as it’s focusing on the red waterslide, waiting for his dad to come down.

“We don’t have to keep watching if it’s upsetting you,” Tom tells him.

Jake frantically shakes his head, slumped against Tom as tears keep streaming down his face. “I want to watch it. But I miss her so much.”

Tom kisses his temple. “I know you do.” His voice sounds rough too.

Reaching out his shaking hand, Jake tries to get the video playing again, but Tom gently catches his hand. “Don’t use your hand, remember? I’ll do it, I promise.”

The video resumes and his mom’s voice can be heard over the rushing water. “Okay, he should be coming down any second now…just a few more seconds…oh, here he comes!”

An enormous wall of water bursts out of the slide, bringing with it his laughing and soaking wet dad, who ends up spinning at the bottom of the slide. As his dad gets to his feet and wipes the water off his face, Jake’s heart squeezes again. He misses his dad so much!

Then it gets a thousand times worse and better because his dad grins at the camera. “Hi, Jake! You won’t believe this, but I got stuck!”

Jake listens to his mom’s familiar laugh as they discuss his dad getting stuck at the top of the slide and needing a push from the lifeguards to get going. Their words wash over him as Jake’s heart aches and he cries uncontrollably.

“Alright, it’s time for us to say goodbye and find our towels. We have another meeting to get to and sadly, that meeting isn’t taking place in the water park.”

His mom waves and blows Jake a kiss. “Bye, sweetheart! I love you and we’ll see you soon!”

“Bye, Jake!” his dad says, waving. “I love you and we’ll call you tomorrow morning.”

Jake keeps sobbing, staring at their smiling, happy faces. They’ll never call Jake ever again. He’ll never get to see them ever again. No matter how many years go by or how desperately he needs them, they’ll never be here again. Here he is, in a hospital room with a ridiculously high line count and they’ll never show up to hug him and support him.

The video’s stopped and Tom keeps holding him, rubbing his back. “I’m so damn sorry, Jake.”

“I w-wish they—they were here,” he chokes out.

“I know you do. I wish they were here too.”

The pain is as overwhelming as it’s always been, but so is Jake’s desire to watch the video again. It’s been so long since he’s listened to their voices and seen their smiling faces. “Can we watch it again? Please? One—one more time?”

“We can watch it as many times as you want. That’s a new rule too. The video’s no longer a reward. The video is a normal part of your day that you get to watch whenever you want.”

Jake’s heart glows. He can’t believe how lucky he is! Still crying and shaking from emotion, Jake jiggles his hand and Tom dutifully presses play again.

They watch the video two more times with Jake glued to the screen, both hating and loving every moment of it. It hurts so much but it also feels so wonderful. When the memory of his mom and dad’s voices are once more firmly echoing in his head and their smiling faces are cemented in Jake’s mind, he feels less anxious about the situation and he’s just left with overwhelming exhaustion. When he tells Tom about it, Tom squeezes him gently.

“Of course, you’re tired. You’ve done a lot of hard work already. You brought your total down to 6385 and that’s amazing. But I think it’s time to get some sleep, huh?”

Jake agrees. But when Tom starts shifting off the bed, Jake’s heart sinks and he forgets the rules and clings to Tom’s shirt. Please don’t go, please don’t go, please don’t—

Tom slides closer to Jake again and wraps his arms around him. “Shh…it’s okay. I’ll stay, I promise. I thought you’d be more comfortable if I sit next to the bed.”

Jake frantically shakes his head. “Please don’t go.” He wants to explain how much he loves Tom’s warmth and love surrounding him, but he can’t get anything out of his mouth except for that desperate plea.

Tom’s arms are tight around him and he kisses Jake’s cheek. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

Relief rushes through h im and he turns his face into Tom’s chest, his panic fading. He’ll never be alone and cold again because Tom’s here and Tom loves him. “I love you,” Jake mumbles against Tom’s shirt.

Tom draws in a shaky breath and his arms tighten a bit too much, but Jake loves it. “I love you too. I’m not leaving you ever again, I promise.”

Those wonderful words, along with the echo of his parents also telling him they love him and the comfort of Tom holding him make all of his Jake’s worries fade away and after closing his eyes, he quickly drifts off to sleep.


	24. Chapter 24

Jake’s life has improved so much since Tom has appeared that he can’t believe he’s not dreaming. He still doesn’t know how or why he ended up in the hospital, but that doesn’t really matter. The hospital staff sometimes come in and ask him silly questions, such as asking him if he can wiggle his toes or if he has a stomach ache. But most of the time, it’s just him and Tom.

Jake spends a lot of time sleeping and occasionally he’ll wake up and Tom won’t be there, but there’s always a piece of paper waiting on his chest, telling him where Tom’s gone and promising to be back soon. To Jake’s delight, Tom always keeps his promise.

Having Tom around is so wonderful. From the moment Jake opens his eyes after one of his frequent naps, he’ll see Tom smiling at him. Once Jake smiles back, Tom will stand up and kiss him on the forehead. Then Jake will hold up his arms, sending Tom that silent request and Tom always climbs onto the bed to wrap him in warmth and love. It’s incredible.

Tom does him the favor of keeping track of his sleeping intervals and everything else about his health, so Jake can leave him in charge of telling him when he gets to do more lines and when he hasn’t quite met the requirements yet and needs to sleep more or wait for the clear liquid in one of the IV bags to go down to a certain level. Jake never knows what time it is and Tom keeps Jake’s phone tucked away so the video stays safe, which means Jake has no way of tracking time himself. But that’s okay, since Tom does that for him.

All the new rules are a bit annoying because Jake desperately wants to keep doing lines and making his total go down, but the new rules are mandatory and Jake doesn’t fuss. Much. And when Jake’s satisfied Tom’s rules and they do lines together, it goes very well. With Jake’s hand on top of Tom’s, they measure out the spacing for five lines and Tom uses the ruler to draw five perfect lines as Jake’s hand follows along. Whenever they’re done, they cross out the old total and put the new one down. Doing the lines is fantastic but crossing out that old total and putting the new one floods Jake with relief and pride.

The only time he and Tom get a bit annoyed with each other is when Jake starts to get really anxious about not getting to do his lines and he’s having a hard time meeting the stupid requirements. Then he’ll snap at Tom and try to explain how important it is for him to do his lines, but Tom doesn’t always give in. He’ll try to distract Jake with his parents’ video or some other video about funny animals or something. Sometimes that’ll work but sometimes Jake will keep arguing. If Jake’s really anxious about not getting to do his lines and Tom’s being a complete idiot who’s not understanding the urgency of the situation, Jake will threaten to get somebody else to help him do the lines. That’s usually when Tom gives in and they’ll do the next set, despite Jake not having done his 2 hour nap or the IV bag not having reached the right level.

But for the most part, Jake’s happy with their new routine. He’s feeling less tired every day, he has more energy and his line total is slowly decreasing. Watching his parents’ video and flipping through other pictures they’d sent him over the years on his phone is always a little sad but it also makes Jake feel good.

Then there’s the amazing day when the nurse comes in and tells him they’re going to remove the hated feeding tube. Having the long, thin tube being pulled out his nose is a bizarre feeling and even Tom looks freaked out by it, but Jake’s just happy that the itchy tape is gone from his cheek. It actually feels weird not feeling the tube when he wiggles his nose.

He’s slowly allowed to start eating real food. It’s just simple food like oatmeal, fruit purees and scrambled eggs and it feels weird to chew food after not having done it for a while, but Jake loves the taste of the different food and he can’t stop smiling. After doing very gentle exercises with his hands, he’s even allowed to eat on his own, as long as he uses a gentle grip on the spoon. But despite the pain killers that they continue giving him, Jake’s hands are weak and start shaking after just a few minutes, which is why he prefers to have Tom feeding him. Tom loves feeding him anyway and it makes Jake feel so loved to have Tom feed him, so he lets his hands rest.

Each day, they remove more and more of the IVs and wires they had attached to him and every time they remove another one, Tom gets a very happy smile on his face, so Jake likes that. Jake rarely pays attention to what the doctors say because he still doesn’t understand why he’s here, but he gets to do his lines and he has Tom and that’s all that matters.

When they take him off the pain killers, Jake’s hands feel a little sore, but Tom encourages him to keep doing the light finger stretches and soft ball squeezing exercises that one of the nurses had shown him. Jake hates doing them and would rather spend time doing his lines, but Tom’s very happy when Jake does his exercises and making Tom happy is important to Jake.

There’s one special day when Tom asks him out of the blue if he’d like to go outside. Jake hasn’t left his bed in who know how long, so he eagerly accepts the offer. Tom gently lifts him out of the bed and into a waiting wheelchair and covers Jake with way too many blankets despite Jake making a fuss. Tom wheels them out into a beautiful courtyard and the feeling of sunshine on his face makes Jake smile.

Tom wheels him around the courtyard and parks the wheelchair next to a bench before sitting down and putting his sunglasses on. Despite the warm sunshine, Jake finds it a little cold and he pulls the blankets tighter around him.

Tom sees him do it and immediately slides off the bench. “Lemme do it.”

Jake smiles softly as Tom carefully pulls the blankets tighter and tucks them in around him so the cool air isn’t getting in. “Thank you.”

When he’s done, Tom frowns at him in concern. “If you’re cold, we should go back in.”

Shaking his head, Jake relaxes against the back of the wheelchair. “I’m alright.”

“You’ll tell me if you’re getting cold?”

Tom looks so worried and Jake’s eyes brim with tears. He can’t believe he’s lucky enough to have Tom in his life. “I will. Tom?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you,” Jake whispers.

That makes Tom smile softly and although Jake can’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses, he knows Tom’s eyes are shining with that same love.

Out of nowhere, Jake suddenly wants to kiss him. Not just on the cheek or forehead, but a real kiss. They haven’t done one of those in so long. “Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you? Just once? It’ll be really fast, I promise.”

To his pleasant surprise, Tom’s nodding frantically. He stands up, shoves his sunglasses on top of his head and bends over Jake, gently putting his fingers under Jake’s chin. Smiling and shaking from excitement, Jake stares at Tom’s lips as Tom slowly leans closer. When he’s close enough, Jake gently presses his lips against Tom’s, kissing him lightly. Moments later, Tom kisses him back, just as soft. He’s not moving away and Jake happily takes advantage, kissing Tom a few more times as Tom does the same.

At one point, Jake remembers Tom having told him to keep his lips wet while kissing. It seems like ages ago that Tom had taught him how to kiss. Feeling a bit annoyed that he’d forgotten such a vital step, Jake licks his lips and that makes the kissing even better. Tom keeps his fingers so gentle under Jake’s chin and his lips stay soft and full of love as they keep kissing, filling Jake’s heart with warmth.

When Tom finally pulls back, he’s smiling and his eyes are shining. “We can do that whenever you want,” he whispers.

“Or whenever you want,” Jake whispers back.

Grinning, Tom sits back on the bench and puts his feet up on the armrests of Jake’s wheelchair, putting his sunglasses back on while he keeps smiling at Jake. As they sit there, Jake stares around at the trees on the edge of the courtyard and other people in hospital gowns who are walking around or sitting on other benches.

For the first time in a long time, Jake is reminded that there’s a whole world that exists outside of Tom, himself and his lines. That world is a scary, unknown entity right now because it doesn’t have his parents in it and Jake doesn’t know what to do in that world so it’s better not to think about it. But it does make that old question come back of how he ended up in the hospital and why. “Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know why I’m in the hospital?”

Tom clenches his jaw and he lowers his head for a moment before he’s pushing his sunglasses on top of his head again. His eyes are sad. “You were really struggling with your lines. You weren’t eating, drinking or sleeping properly and you got very sick.”

Jake clenches his jaw, feeling embarrassed. He hates being reminded that the old rules had been too hard for him to follow. The rules should have kept him motivated and he should have been able to get his total back down to five quickly, but he hadn’t because he’s incompetent. The only reason he’s doing better now is because Tom had given him easier rules to follow. Jake secretly loves the new rules, but it still makes him feel like a failure that he hadn’t managed to accomplish his goals and he’d ended up making himself sick. That’s really embarrassing and he flushes, staring down at Tom’s feet.

Tom shifts on the bench. “Hey, what’s with that look?”

“I’m…embarrassed.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t do my lines properly and it led to this whole mess,” Jake mumbles, waving a hand around himself.

Tom slides off the bench and kneels in front of Jake’s wheelchair, squeezing his knees with his hands. “You followed the old rules perfectly, but they weren’t good rules. They made you suffer and that’s not good. That’s why we changed them.”

Jake still thinks it’s his fault and he can’t meet Tom’s gaze. There’s no way he would have ended up in the hospital if he was doing things properly. Jake had made himself sick because he’s pathetic and that’s ridiculous.

Thankfully, Tom distracts him by asking him if he wants Tom to push him around the courtyard a bit, which brings the smile back to Jake’s face and makes him forget about his embarrassing blunder that has led to such a fuss.

* * *

Their first trip outside is such a success that they go multiple times a day. Jake finds it a bit strange that he isn’t allowed to walk, but Tom tells him that’s part of the new rules so Jake doesn’t complain. He doesn’t mind being wheeled around and being lifted in and out of his bed by Tom.

The only downside to not walking on his own is that Tom has to carry him to and from the bathroom once Jake gets more things disconnected from him. That’s a little embarrassing, but Tom acts like it’s no big deal and that makes Jake relax about it.

That rule actually starts to change after a few days because the doctors tell Jake that he has to start walking on his own. That’s very difficult because his legs are weak and refuse to cooperate. Tom usually wheels him to a gym facility in the hospital where Jake has to practice walking by holding two bars on either side and doing various stretches with large elastic bands and other odd things. It’s very tiring and Jake hates that it’s taking up precious line drawing time, but Tom tells him it’s part of his new rules. If Jake makes a fuss and refuses to do his exercises, he doesn’t get to do his lines and that can’t happen so Jake does the silly exercises. He doesn’t care that the exercises will help him walk on his own. He likes having Tom wheel him around or carry him, and walking isn’t a big priority for him. Doing his lines is a big priority. But Tom makes it clear that the exercises are a non-negotiable requirement. To make things easier, Tom stays during the exercises and always praises Jake and showers him with encouragement when he’s getting exhausted.

The day when Jake slowly walks around the courtyard while only holding onto Tom’s arm is apparently a day of big celebration for Tom, but Jake’s just happy that he’d earned the right to do five more lines when they come back inside.

He’s especially excited about his lines because the total continues decreasing every single day and they’re heading towards 6300. Jake’s very excited about getting to the 200s. Of course, his biggest goal is finishing the entire set, but he likes making smaller goals that he can achieve faster. Getting to the 200s has been one of his biggest goals and he’s rapidly approaching that.

* * *

Then things stop going so well because two things happen in rapid succession that all annoy Jake.

First, Jake finally finishes the 300s…but seeing the total be at 6295 is discouraging. It’s nice to see the 3 having turned into a 2, but the 95 is such a huge number and it emphasizes how far Jake is from accomplishing his goal and that makes his excitement about finishing the 300s vanish. Tom makes the ridiculous point that Jake doesn’t have to finish doing his lines if he doesn’t want to, but Jake brushes that off. That’s one of the dumbest things he’s ever heard Tom say.

Second, the stupid hospital staff tell him he needs to start seeing a therapist. They say he’s been doing very well in his ‘recovery’—which always makes Jake flush and remind him of his failures—and they want him to speak to a therapist who can help him with the “issues that had led to his self-destructive behavior”.

That annoys Jake right away. He’s never engaged in any self-destructive behaviors in his entire life! He’s never broken the law, he’s never done drugs and he only drinks socially or during specific meals. How dare they suggest that he’s misbehaving?!

Tom tries to explain that the staff aren’t accusing Jake of doing something illegal or inappropriate. They’re just concerned that the old rules weren’t good for him and Jake had made himself sick following them.

That makes Jake gape at him because obviously, the staff are morons. “I didn’t make up the rules! Besides, I had no choice!”

Tom’s clenching his jaw and his eyes look pained. “Jake, even if we pretend that you did have to do the lines and follow the old rules—”

What an idiot! “There’s no  _pretending_ about it!”

“Fine. You were doing your lines and following the rules. Do you really think it’s okay that the rules were set up so you’d die if you kept screwing up your lines?”

Jake shrugs. “That’s the natural conclusion that the rules were leading to.”

“And you don’t see a problem with that?”

“Why would I?! I _had_ to do my lines or my cuts or whatever they are. That’s a fact. And despite the exercise not being difficult, I kept screwing up and that meant I had to suffer the consequences.”

“But you don’t see a problem with the fact that you never stopped to ask for different rules when you saw the rules were making you sick?”

Why can’t this idiot understand?! “The rules are the rules! I had to follow them. I wasn’t happy about potentially dying, but I had no choice!”

Tom’s quiet for a long moment, staring at Jake. It’s stupid because Jake doesn’t understand why he’s staring at him like that. There’s nothing confusing about the situation. Jake was supposed to do his lines, he didn’t manage to do them properly and he suffered consequences as a result. It’s embarrassing and Jake hates that it’s led to people making such a fuss over him, but that’s why he’s working so hard on doing his lines properly now.

Tom sighs softly. “No matter what you believe, the staff think you’re suffering from mental health problems. They want you to talk to a therapist to get it sorted out.”

“What mental health problems?!” Jake scoffs.

“Your OCD.”

Hearing that stupid term coming out of Tom’s mouth just annoys Jake even more. “How many times have we gone over this, Carlson? I don’t have OCD or any other ridiculous mental disorder. I like being precise when I’m doing something. Maybe to disorganized slops, that means I have some kind of disorder. But I reassure you—I’m not the one with problems.”

Tom doesn’t look happy about Jake’s dismissal of his ridiculous assessment, but Jake doesn’t care. He’s  _not_ mentally ill.

Shifting his jaw, Tom stares at the wall behind Jake. “The staff won’t discharge you unless you see a therapist. Will you at least talk to the therapist once?”

Jake clenches his jaw and glares at Tom. “That would be a complete waste of my time and the therapist's time.”

“They won’t discharge you until you talk to him.”

Sighing loudly, Jake rolls his eyes. He’s really getting annoyed at Tom’s attitude and everything else around him. He wants to go back to the nice, easy days which were filled with nothing but Tom-hugs, doing his lines and being wheeled around the courtyard by Tom. “Of course, they won’t. They’re concerned that if I leave the hospital and something happens to me, somebody will sue them. They don’t care what’s important to me and these policies aren’t meant to benefit me. They’re meant to protect them from liability. That’s understandable, but I’m not going to waste my time by going along with their baloney.”

In fact, now that Jake’s decided to stop playing along with the hospital’s ridiculous demands, he realizes he doesn’t want to be here anymore. The hospital staff have fussed over him for long enough and he’s allowed them to do whatever they wanted in order to protect themselves. But now they’re going way too far and he’s tired of playing their game. It’s time for him to go home. Sitting up, he throws the blankets off himself and slides his feet into his slippers.

“What are you doing?” Tom asks, sounding apprehensive.

“I’m going home. I’m tired of this ridiculousness. And unless you’re going to stop being ridiculous too, you can stay here with them.”

Tom sighs softly but Jake turns and gives him a hard look, daring him to argue.

Thankfully, Tom just stares at him sadly but eventually nods. “Okay. I’ll get you some of my clothes to change into.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

Tom’s annoyed but not surprised that Jake’s still in denial about his mental health problems. Jake’s settled into his view of things so deeply and comfortably that he seems incapable of seeing what’s actually going on. To Jake, doing his lines is a normal part of his life and it’s something he has to do. Like breathing or eating. No wonder he thinks Tom’s crazy for suggesting that Jake stop doing the lines or that Jake’s view of his lines might be wrong.

At first, Tom had wanted to keep arguing with him. If Jake doesn’t get a handle on his OCD, it’ll continue running his life and that would be devastating. Being at the mercy of his OCD twenty-four hours a day isn’t a way to live.

But when Tom had realized the extent of Jake’s denial, he’d change tactics. Seeing Jake’s immediate defensiveness in the face of the hospital staff trying to force him to confront his mental health struggles made Tom pull back. Tom remembers their bizarre fight after Jake had that bad service. Jake had decided that Tom wasn’t on his side and it didn’t matter that Jake’s the one who had completely misunderstood his discussion with Chef Mitra. Jake had just decided that Tom was the enemy and he’d cut Tom out of his life immediately without any further discussion. That had led them to this current mess and Tom won’t make the same mistake again.

Pushing Jake too hard and making him think that Tom’s not on his side will make Jake push Tom right out of his life again. If that happens, Jake might end up in the exact situation again and Tom might not be able to save him in time. So Tom has to play this very carefully. He has to stay on Jake’s side but find ways to steer Jake in the right direction at the same time. One thing’s for sure: Tom won’t let Jake’s OCD ruin his life. Even though Jake’s completely under the OCD’s control right now, Tom won’t let this horrible disease keep its claws in Jake.

* * *

The doctor has the same annoyed, unimpressed look on her face that Tom’s been struggling to suppress since Jake had determined that he wants to go home.

“I’m not discharging him without a mental health evaluation.”

Tom sighs. “I realize that. But what you’re not understanding is that Jake’s gonna walk out of this hospital in about twenty minutes.” Or as soon as Jake manages to get changed, which is taking a while but won’t take forever. “If you care about Jake at all, you’ll tell me what I need to do to keep helping him when we go home, rather than repeating the same unhelpful crap over and over again.”

Her jaw shifts and she gives Tom a hard look. “You can’t convince him to stay?”

Tom snorts. “Jake’s one of the most stubborn people I’ve met in my life. If I push him about it, he’ll push me right out of his life and that won’t help him. Trust me, if he’s decided he’s going home, then there’s nothing we can do about it unless we physically tie him to the bed and that won’t help him.”

She sighs softly, but she seems to be thinking the situation over. Finally, she must decide that Tom knows what he’s talking about and Jake leaving isn’t going to change. “He’s made good progress with eating solids but he has to keep taking it slowly. Start incorporating small portions of cut up fruits and vegetables along with his eggs, oatmeal and fruit purees. Add in small, simple sandwiches. No meat. Then introduce chicken and fish in small portions. If he handles everything well, you can start incorporating heavier foods like beef. But don’t push it.”

Tom nods. “Yes, ma’am. We’ll take it slow.”

“He needs to keep exercising regularly, but don’t let him overdo it. He needs to get his muscle tone back and rebuild his strength, but if anything hurts then he has to stop immediately. A bit of soreness is fine, sharp pain isn’t.”

“Okay.”

“Lastly, he needs to deal with his obsessive compulsive disorder. His denial—”

Tom sighs and holds up his hand. “Believe me, you’re preaching to the choir. I’m gonna do everything I can to help Jake with his OCD.”

She doesn’t look convinced. “OCD is one of the most difficult mental disorders to treat. Relapsing is very common and recovery is a life-long process. But if he continues letting his OCD run his life, the results are going to be the same or worse than they were this time around. For Jake, his OCD is fatal and no matter what he tells himself, you need to remember that. The severity of Jake’s illness is extremely dangerous for him.”

Tom nods, determination simmering in his blood. “I’m gonna do whatever I have to so it won’t win.”

She still doesn’t look impressed, but Tom doesn’t care. She doesn’t know how much Tom loves Jake and she doesn’t know what fighters he and Jake are. They can do this.

* * *

While Tom’s tying up his own shoes on Jake’s feet—Jake was so appalled when he’d realized that he’d have to walk out in public in his hospital slippers that Tom had offered to switch shoes with him—he’s actually looking forward to going home.

But as Tom straightens up, he suddenly realizes that things aren’t so simple. He can’t go back to the hotel because he’s been banned. “Uhm, Jake?”

“Yes?”

“There’s a problem that I forgot about.”

Jake frowns at him as he settles into his wheelchair, which Tom had managed to convince him is non-negotiable until he’s physically outside the hospital. “What problem?”

Tom makes a face. “I’ve been banned from the hotel.”

“What?! Why?”

Sighing, Tom sits on the bed as Jake slowly turns his wheelchair around so he’s facing him. “I broke into your room to get you out. You weren’t answering the door and I had no choice.”

Well, he did have the choice whether to do it on his own or involve hotel management, but his heart hadn’t given him a choice.

Jake’s frowning. “And they banned you for that?”

“Yeah. I mean…I can see their point. You’d engaged the privacy protocols and I disregarded that. Plus, I broke into your room. That wasn’t cool.”

“You saved my life,” Jake says, as if that’s the only thing that matters. To Tom, that’s the only thing that matters, but the hotel hadn’t seen it that way. Sighing, Jake waves his hand. “Give me my phone, please. I’ll get this straightened out.”

Tom stares at him. “You think you can convince them to undo the ban?”

Jake has that stubborn look on his face that Tom usually hates, but it’ll serve him well in this situation. “You bet I can. I don’t like using my position like this, but in this case, they left me no choice. The hotel’s your home and I want you living there. Besides, you aren’t going to be breaking into random people’s rooms. You specifically broke into my room to save my life.”

Smiling softly, Tom hands Jake his phone. Jake makes a bit of a face when he’s pressing the buttons on his phone—his hands still hurt—but he manages.

* * *

Just like Jake had predicted, having a Seever demand that a previously banned guest become unbanned is very straight forward. The manager on the other end puts up a bit of a fuss, but Jake gets that tone in his voice that doesn’t allow for arguments and the manager caves very quickly.

Tom sits there, feeling a bit smug about the situation. Jake usually doesn’t abuse his position of power in their society but having Jake use that power to give Tom his home back feels really good. He sits there, leaning on Jake’s bed and feeling pretty good about the whole thing…until he overhears Jake telling the manager that all charges related to Tom’s room should go on Jake’s account. That makes Tom sit up and he opens his mouth to argue, but Jake holds up his hand and gives him a look to stay quiet.

Tom obeys, but the moment Jake’s off the phone, Tom launches into protests. “I have money, Seever. I don’t need you paying my bills.”

Jake gives him an unimpressed look. “I know that. But you’ve taken so much time off work already to take care of me.”

“That was my choice.”

“Yes, and I’m not demanding that you let me reimburse you for that period of time. I could, but I’m trying to be reasonable and come to a compromise.”

Tom gives him a look. “Paying my bills for me isn’t a compromise.”

“I would be happy to leave your bills as your responsibility if I were going back to my own room and you to yours. But I’m going to be staying with you for a while, so I feel it’s my responsibility to pay for both of our rooms.”

Tom’s glad that at least Jake’s not arguing over going back to his own room. Dealing with the disaster zone that’s still Jake’s room is something Tom hasn’t gotten around to dealing with and he knows Jake’s not ready to face it either. He’d pleaded with Jake to keep staying with him for a while and they’d deal with Jake’s room later. But that doesn’t mean Jake needs to pay for everything. “It doesn’t matter where you’re living. I can pay my own bills.”

Jake sighs. “Fine. Can we do a 50/50 split? I don’t want to stay with you if you’re paying for everything. That’s not right.”

That’s something Tom can live with and he nods. “We can do that.”

“Good. Since I already set things up, the room charges can go to my account and we’ll discuss the charges every month.”

“Weekly.”

Jake rolls his eyes. “Fine. Weekly. Every Sunday. Happy?”

“Ecstatic.”

That makes Jake laugh, but then he’s rubbing the wheelchair’s armrests with his fingers and its an unusually nervous gesture.

“What’s wrong?”

“When are you going back to work?” Jake asks, sounding apprehensive.

Tom gets a bit of a sinking feeling in his gut. Things are going relatively well and Tom has no plans to start working again soon—he won’t leave Jake along for several hour stretches until he’s sure that Jake won’t spend all those hours frantically doing lines—but he’ll want to go back to work again at some point. If Jake suddenly changed his mind about accepting Tom’s job, that’s not good. “Jake…”

“I’m not asking because I have a problem with your job. You know I don’t. I’m just really enjoying spending time together. But on the other hand, I don’t want you to be in financial difficulty and offering to compensate you for your time wouldn’t be something you like—”

Tom gives him a flat look, emphasizing how right Jake is about that. As if he’d want Jake paying to spend time with the man he loves. Right.

“—but I don’t want to make things difficult for you. You’ve already lost so much income due to taking care of me these last few weeks and I want things to stay good between us.”

Tom’s apprehension vanishes and it’s replaced by a warm glow. Jake wasn’t fussing about Tom’s job, he just loves spending time with him but doesn’t want to Tom feeling stressed about it. “I’ll be fine. I’ll let you know if my savings are running low, but if we’re splitting the cost of my room, I’ll be okay for several months.”

Jake returns his warm smile. “And I’m happy to give you an interest free loan, if necessary.”

Tom grins, loving that Jake understands him so well. “Thank you.”

Sighing, Jake’s smile changes into a wry one. “If I could get away with it, I’d transfer half of whatever’s in my bank account into yours right now. Not as a loan, just a straight transfer. But you’d transfer it back, so there’s no point.”

That makes Tom laugh. It’s bizarre that he’s in a situation where the person he loves is willing to give him a ridiculous amount of money without any strings attached, but Tom doesn’t need or want Jake’s money. If he ever really needs help, he knows Jake will help him. But their relationship has never been about money and Tom wants to keep it that way. He’s fine not being a billionaire and he definitely doesn’t want Jake to ever think that Tom’s with him because of his money.

Chuckling, Jake shakes his head at him, his eyes sparkling. “You’re one of a kind, Tom Carlson. I still can’t believe you picked me.”

Smiling, Tom gets off the bed and leans over Jake, gently tilting his chin up and kissing him. “Well, I can’t believe you picked me, so I know how you feel.”

Rubbing his nose against Jake’s, Tom listens to Jake let out a soft, delighted laugh. Bracing his other arm on Jake’s armrest, Tom smiles and catches Jake’s lips for another kiss. They kiss softly, the air around them full of love and pure adoration for each other.

“Tom?” Jake mumbles against his lips.

“Hmm?”

Jake pulls back, smiling at him, his eyes soft. “Can we do a set of lines before we go home?”

Catching his urge to sigh, Tom keeps his smile even. “Sure.”

Jake’s smile gets brighter and he eagerly reaches for the bedside table where his pad of paper, pencil and ruler live. Keeping that smile on his face, Tom gently helps Jake get the paper and ruler lined up properly and checks to make sure Jake’s not clutching the pencil too hard. When Tom’s satisfied, he gives Jake a nod and watches Jake grin as he measures out and draws five small lines, practically vibrating from happiness as he does it.

When he’s done, Jake triumphantly crosses out his old total and writes ‘6230’. “I’m getting close to finishing the 200s!”

Tom forces his smile to get bigger. He’s going to find a way to rip this monster out of Jake’s head and keep it out, no matter what it takes. “Yep. You’re doing great!”

“Can we do another set when we get to the hotel?”

“We’re gonna eat lunch first, then you can do another set.”

Jake sighs softly, but nods as he puts the pencil down and Tom takes the pad back from him. “Okay.”


	25. Chapter 25

Being back home at the hotel is so much better than the hospital was. The familiar surroundings immediately make Jake feel at peace. Truth be told, he’s glad that he’d allowed Tom to convince him to stay out of his room for now. Whenever he thinks about his room, he gets this weird feeling in his gut. He’s almost scared of what he’d left behind. All he remembers when he thinks about his room is a cold darkness, being hungry, pain from his hands and having to hold his heavy knife. Tom’s room is much nicer. It’s filled with bright sunshine, it’s always warm and Jake can spend all day cuddling with Tom and fuzzy blankets.

When he’d come into the living room, he’d immediately noticed a familiar brown blanket thrown over the back of the couch, which had been a very pleasant surprise. That’s his mom’s blanket! He doesn’t know how the blanket got from his room to Tom’s, but Tom tells him not to worry about it. That’s something Tom tells him a lot and Jake would normally fuss about being told to stay ignorant about things, but in this case, he really doesn’t mind. It’s so nice not to worry about anything and just let Tom take care of him. Unlike the stupid people in the hospital, Tom doesn’t insist that Jake feed himself if he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t accuse Jake of being mentally unstable and best of all, Tom never fusses when it’s time for Jake to do his lines.

They settle into the same wonderful routine that they’d had in Jake’s early days in the hospital, but there aren’t strangers constantly barging in, asking stupid questions and making him do things that Jake doesn’t want to do.

Every morning when Jake wakes up, he always spends a while dozing, smiling at the soft warmth wrapped around him. The mattress is so comfortable, the blankets are fluffy and the pillow smells so good when he sticks his nose into it. Best of all, Tom’s sleeping just a few inches away from him and Jake always lies on his pillow, smiling at Tom while he sleeps. When Tom wakes up, he always has a soft smile on his face and he leans over to give Jake a quick kiss before Jake rolls them over and crawls on top of Tom, nuzzling his neck and enjoying the warmth of his skin and his familiar smell. Tom always smiles and his eyes shine with joy as he wraps his arms around Jake and holds him so tight.

They laze around for a while, enjoying their cuddling while they discuss what to order for breakfast. Tom usually grabs his phone to order and Jake always falls into a half doze after Tom’s done ordering and he slides his arms back around Jake.

For breakfast, Tom wheels in the tray table and they eat in bed, with Jake sitting between Tom’s legs and leaning against him. Breakfast is Jake’s favorite meal of the day because Tom feeds him. Jake’s hands are usually stiff first thing in the morning and holding utensils is difficult. But he doesn’t have to because Tom loves feeding Jake breakfast.

Tom always nuzzles the side of Jake’s head and keeps one hand on Jake’s stomach, rubbing gently while he brings a spoonful of food to Jake’s mouth, feeding him one small bite after another. After each bite, Tom always smiles and praises him, alternating patting his stomach happily and kissing the side of his face. Jake’s job during breakfast is just to eat and keep his hands wrapped around whatever warm dish that’s in his lap. The warmth helps sooth the stiffness of his hands and it adds to the comfort of the whole routine.

When Jake’s done eating, he switches to holding Tom’s dishes for him as Tom eats and Jake relaxes against him and often falls into a doze.

Once breakfast is done, Tom puts their dishes back on the tray and helps Jake do stretching exercises for his hands. With Tom’s quiet encouragement and warm kisses, Jake dutifully moves through the exercises that the hospital had taught him—bending his fingers in different ways, rotating his wrists and massaging his fingers and palms with each hand. While it’s so nice when Tom moves Jake’s hands for him, Jake knows it’s important for him to regain strength in his hands and he does as much as he can on his own. He needs his hands to stay healthy to do lines, so that’s very important.

Tom always smiles and kisses the side of his head, praising him and telling him how good Jake’s doing. It makes Jake’s heart glow and he can never stop smiling as he does his exercises, even if there’s a little pain.

Once the hand exercises are done, Tom pushes the covers off and they stretch out the rest of Jake. He has to do leg and arm stretches, neck rotations and lift his arms above his head. That’s always a little tiring, but Tom encourages him the whole way through and kisses him proudly in between every set.

When that’s done, it’s time for another one of Jake’s favorite activities. Because he’d done his exercises so well and eaten well, he gets to do his first set of lines of the day. Tom always keeps the pad of paper, his ruler and pencil on the bedside table and Jake settles between Tom’s legs and happily does his five perfect lines, excitement rushing through him as he does them. As always, that excitement grows bigger when he decreases that ever-shrinking total by five and he feels so satisfied with himself.

Then it’s time to get out of bed and get changed. Walking is always difficult at first and some days are more difficult than others. Tom always keeps one arm wrapped around Jake’s back and keeps a tight hold of him in case his legs collapse. But he’s getting stronger every day and Tom tells him it’s important to build up his strength so he can stay healthy and keep doing a good job with his lines. That’s what’s most important, so Jake works hard at getting stronger.

Once he’s done a few rounds around the bedroom and it’s a day when he’s relatively stable on his feet, Jake heads to the closet and pulls out some of Tom’s clothes to get changed. When they’re changed, they go into the bathroom to shave and brush their teeth before they move out to the living room and relax on the couch while a random housekeeper comes in and cleans their room.

Jake’s favorite place is being in bed with Tom, but his second favorite place is being on the couch with him. Being wrapped in his mom’s fuzzy brown blanket and being squished between the soft back of the couch and Tom’s warm, solid body is wonderful. He loves rubbing his face over Tom’s chest and whatever shirt he’s wearing. They watch television or chat about whatever comes into their heads while Tom keeps his arms wrapped around him and reminds him every single second that Tom loves him very much and Jake will never be cold, alone and in pain again.

Some days, Jake finds himself missing his parents more than usual and they’ll spend hours with Jake’s phone in Jake’s lap, watching videos and looking at photos of them as they both cry and cling to each other.

No matter what, after two hours of relaxation, it’s time to do more lines. At first, Jake hadn’t been wearing his watch regularly and he’d continued relying on Tom to be his time keeper. But there was one morning when Jake had kept an eye on the time on the microwave and he’d noticed that Tom had neglected to track the time properly. They’d reached the end of a 2 hour relaxation session…but even after 3 long minutes had gone by, Tom hadn’t noticed or said anything.

That wasn’t good at all. Jake wasn’t upset with Tom. Really, it’s Jake’s job to track the time. Doing lines is his responsibility, not Tom’s. So Jake borrows one of Tom’s watches and wears that. Tom fusses a bit and insists he’ll do a better job keeping an eye on the time and that the microwave wasn’t always correct, but Jake had smiled and brushed off his concerns. Doing lines is his responsibility, not Tom’s. Wearing the watch allows him to track the time properly and Jake eagerly counts down the two hours in between his sets. He’s really enjoying spending time with Tom in the two hour relaxation sessions in between lines, but doing lines is definitely his absolute favorite part of the day.

It turns out that Tom likes watching some of the daytime soap operas that air during the day and although Jake starts out thinking they’re a bit silly, he gradually finds himself getting caught up in the ridiculous storylines and he enjoys watching the episodes. Thankfully, Tom never fusses when Jake has to pause the show to do his lines.

Once they’re done watching their shows, they usually play some games. Tom has board games and a chess board and sets of cards. They play chess, monopoly, cribbage and whatever other games they want. At first, Jake’s hands start hurting when he holds the cards for too long, but when that happens, he usually puts a book up in front of him so he can lay his cards out on the table. But every day, his hands feels better and he can hold the cards for longer.

But no matter how interesting a television episode is or how exciting a game is, Jake always keeps a careful eye on Tom’s watch on his wrist because every two hours, it’s time to do more lines. Nothing is more exciting than that.

For lunch, they order food and eat at the table. Unlike breakfast, Tom encourages Jake to eat lunch on his own. He’ll help him if Jake’s feeling tired or his hands are hurting, but Jake likes how happy Tom looks when he eats on his own. And again, Jake likes making his hands stronger because it helps make his line work go better.

In the afternoon, it’s exercise time. Sometimes they go to the pool and Jake floats around with a pool noodle, gently treading water or kicking up and down the lane with Tom swimming along side him. As Jake gets stronger, he gradually starts swimming laps, moving slowly and always stopping when he starts hurting or feeling too tired. As time goes by, Jake gets strong enough to race Tom down the lane and they throw diving rings all over the pool and race each other to dive down and scoop them up. Whenever Jake surfaces with a handful of rings, Tom’s always laughing with joy and grabs his face to kiss him as they tread water.

On other days, they go to the gym. That’s always difficult, but Jake knows it’s important. To start with, Jake uses the easiest resistance setting on the machines and he can only do a few minutes until he’s exhausted. But Tom makes a wonderful chart where they track how long Jake can use the various machines at different levels and it’s really nice to see his own progress. After working out or finishing their swim, it’s time for showering.

When Jake first comes home, he struggles to stay standing long enough to shower, but he hates sitting in the bathtub and he really doesn’t want to go back to having sponge baths. Because Tom’s smart and wonderful, he suggests using the sex sling and after Jake agrees that it might work, Tom gets it set up. But when it’s time for Jake to actually get into the bundle of straps, he’s about to change his mind about the whole thing. He doesn’t even know how to start and he helplessly stares at the loops of material hanging from the ceiling while he stands naked in Tom’s shower.

Tom laughs when he sees Jake’s expression and kisses the side of his head, his arms wrapped around Jake from behind and their naked bodies pressed together. “I’ll help you get into it. If you don’t like it, we can get a chair that you can sit on. But I think this will be more comfortable.”

To get into it, Tom picks Jake up and tells him to cling to him with his arms and legs while Tom arranges the straps. Then he carefully lowers Jake into it as Jake keeps clinging to him. He can’t help but worry that the whole thing will come crashing down, despite having seen Tom in the sling and remembering Tom’s reassurances that he’s had much heavier people in it. It feels really weird to have the various straps underneath him, but as Jake gradually lets them take more of his weight, he feels them stretching and holding, supporting his weight.

Tom’s grinning down at him, bent over him with his arms still around Jake’s back. “It’s okay, I promise. Just relax into it.”

It’s nerve-wracking to slowly release his grip on Tom, but Jake trusts him and gradually forces his arms and legs to let go of him. Once he’s settled into the sling, he’s surprised to discover that it really is comfortable. Looking down at himself, Jake can’t help but laugh, feeling ridiculous. His legs are spread wide open with his knees and feet dangling in the air and he’s lying at a slight angle, his head, back and arms supported by the different straps.

Tom stays above him, frowning down at him with concern as he adjusts some of the straps underneath Jake. “You okay?”

Jake slowly relaxes and eventually starts smiling. “Yeah. It’s actually comfortable.”

That makes Tom grin with relief and he straightens up, gently squeezing Jake’s nearby knee. “Trust me, I know. I’ve never had any complaints.”

That reminds Jake that this device is usually used for sex and he abruptly remembers the last time they’d been in Tom’s shower and they’d used this sling to have sex. It had been an intimate and wonderful experience…and here he is, lying naked and spread out on a device designed for sex, his legs spread wide open and his ass perfectly level with Tom’s cock…and he doesn’t know how he feels about that.

“Hey, hey, hey. What’s with that look?” Tom asks softly, stepping closer to him. It actually makes his cock brush Jake’s ass and that makes him even more uncomfortable. He’s completely forgotten that he and Tom used to have sex. He hasn’t thought about sex in ages and he really doesn’t feel like having sex right now. But Tom’s been so kind to him and they love each other. Tom’s earned the right to have sex, even if Jake’s not really in the mood.

The whole thing makes his stomach clench with discomfort and he dimly remembers that this type of awkward situation is why he’s always avoided romantic relationships in the past.

“Jake, do you wanna get out of the sling? Reach up and wrap your hands around my neck and I’ll lift you out.”

Chewing on his lip, Jake frowns up at Tom, feeling very conflicted. “No, I’m fine. Well, no, I’m not fine. But if you want to have sex, then we can.”

Tom’s frown deepens and he looks confused. “You wanna have sex right now?”

Jake sighs softly. “No, but you do. And you earned it.”

That makes Tom’s eyes darken and he looks angry. “Jake Seever, you don’t _ever_ owe anybody sex. It doesn’t matter what the person does for you. If you don’t wanna have sex, then you never _ever_ have to. You got that?”

That doesn’t solve Jake’s problem and he makes a face. “But I want to keep you happy. It’s been ages since we had sex and it’s not a big deal. If you want to have sex with me, I don’t mind.”

Tom reaches down and grabs Jake’s chin in a firm grip and stares at him intensely. “I mind. And I really wish you’d mind too. You’ve been through hell and it’s normal that you’re not interested in sex right now. Your sex drive will probably come back as you recover. Even if it doesn’t, we’d deal with that when we’re both fully dressed and ready to have that conversation. But I never want you to offer me sex when you’re not in the mood. Even if somebody’s paying you for sex, you get to change your mind if you return the money.”

Jake smiles, Tom’s words having calmed that discomfort in his stomach. He doesn’t know why he hasn’t been horny or even thought about sex in a few months. Actually with further thought, it does make sense. His parents’ death and everything that happened afterwards had put him through one intense situation after another and his poor body’s just been focused on surviving. Sex is an amusement that doesn’t have a high priority. Hopefully Jake’s body will regain an interest in sex as things keep improving. But Jake still wants to double check that he’s understanding the situation correctly. “So you won’t leave me if we don’t have sex today or any time soon?”

Tom nods firmly. “That’s right.”

The situation requires more clarification. “But how long is ‘soon’? Is there a time frame when you want my interest in sex returning? I have no idea how to force it to hurry up but I can try to—”

But Tom’s shaking his head. “Stop. I don’t want you doing anything except focusing on being happy and alive. It’s normal for somebody who went through something traumatic to temporarily lose their sex drive. I’m pretty sure it’ll come back on its own.”

Jake’s back to feeling anxious because that doesn’t answer the pressing concern of ‘what happens if it doesn’t’ and ‘how long will Tom wait’.

But Tom knows him too well and puts a gentle hand on Jake’s face. “I promise, I’m not gonna be thinking about sex for at least a month. When we get to the end of that month, we’ll talk about it and see how we’re feeling.”

That immediately calms Jake down. One month is a long time and that’ll give his body ample opportunity to recover fully. Smiling, he reaches up to touch Tom’s face and leans up to kiss him. Tom smiles against his lips and presses Jake against the straps as he kisses him intensely. Jake relaxes in the sling and kisses him back, all of his earlier anxiety having vanished.

True to his word, Tom never makes any reference to having sex. If Tom’s…taking care of things on his own, Jake sees no sign of it. Even when they’re doing intimate things like sleeping together naked or working together to bathe Jake, Tom keeps things platonic and never pressures Jake.

Jake loves having Tom wash him when they’re in the shower. The sling is so comfortable and it’s wonderful just lying there, feeling Tom gently sliding the soap over him and his fingers working the shampoo through Jake’s hair. The water streams down from the many shower heads, bathing Jake in constant warmth.

At first, Jake always ends up falling asleep, so comfortable and warm. Tom never minds, he just keeps gently getting Jake clean. Eventually, Tom has to wake him up and help Jake flip over so he’s lying on his front. This position should make Jake feel even more exposed before he has to keep his knees pulled up and spread apart to stay balanced in the sling, but Tom always keeps his hands gentle and chaste, rubbing the soap suds over even the most intimate parts of him without turning things sexual.

Once Jake’s been flipped back over on his back and Tom’s rinsed him off, he keeps the warm water spraying over him while Tom gets himself clean, letting Jake doze again. It’s wonderful and shower time quickly finds a place on Jake’s favorite activities list.


	26. Chapter 26

Bathing Jake in the sling is one of the most difficult things Tom’s ever had to do. It’s practical and seeing how much Jake loves it is great, but Tom’s spent way too many years having sex with people in the sling so he often has to shift around Jake to hide the fact that he always gets hard. The whole thing is even more difficult because Tom loves Jake and really misses having sex with him, but that’s not something Jake’s ready for yet.

Rubbing his soapy fingers over Jake’s hole or his cock and keeping his touch light and a gentle smile on his face is incredibly difficult while arousal is pounding through him, but he eventually gets more used to it. But it’s not just the frequency of their bathing ritual that makes Tom’s cock lose interest in the situation. Every time Tom sees Jake’s naked body spread out in front of him, he always gets a tight clench in his gut when he sees how thin he still is. Jake’s always been lean, but he used to be at a healthy weight. Even though he’s rapidly gaining weight back, his ribs and pelvic bones are still easily visible and his arms and legs are too thin. It always reminds Tom how close he’d come to losing Jake permanently and that kills any sexual desire that’s been creeping around.

There’s also the problem that Jake’s way too content with how limited his life is right now. After they’ve been home for a week, there’s no longer any reason for Tom to feed or bathe him. Yes, he loves doing it but he doesn’t like doing it if Jake’s enjoying it because he doesn’t want to do those things on his own. There’s a difference between a person wanting to be taken care of because it feels nice versus somebody who has no desire to take care of themselves.

He and Jake had fallen into the same routine they’d had in Jake’s early days in the hospital and Tom knows this isn’t healthy for the long term. Jake hasn’t asked Tom when he’s going back to work or brought up his own job situation. Unless Tom pushes him with kind smile and gentle encouragement, Jake’s content to spend his days being taken care of. The only thing Jake likes doing on his own without any encouragement is his stupid lines.

Tom knows why Jake’s enjoying their current routine. He’s enjoying the physical contact after the hell he’s gone through and that’s great. Tom has missed holding Jake so much and he loves spending hours cuddling together and keeping happy, sleepy smiles on Jake’s face. If that were the only reason behind Jake liking how things are, Tom would happily keeps things the way they are. But the biggest reason Jake likes their routine is because his entire day is structured around what Tom’s watch is telling him. There’s no way Jake could go back to work if he has to stop and do his lines every two hours. Despite Jake being very happy and comfortable right now, his OCD is still firmly in control.

No matter how badly Tom wants to snap at Jake to stop doing the stupid lines and get back to being the independent person he’d been before all this, that wouldn’t work. Jake would get defensive and annoyed, he’d side with his OCD and push Tom out of his life. So Tom’s continuing his plan to take things slow and use Jake’s own stubbornness and intelligence to fight against his OCD, starting with the ridiculous soap opera shows that Tom had convinced Jake he enjoys watching.

It’s all about…timing.

* * *

“You think today’s the day Liz will confront Marge?” Jake asks as they settle on the couch and Jake takes up his usual position between the couch and Tom, with his head on Tom’s chest.

Tom chuckles as he turns on the television. “I hope so. That’ll be something, huh?”

Against his better judgment, Jake’s become stupidly invested in these ridiculous shows. They’ve been watching the drama in Liz’s family for a week and it’s finally time for Liz to confront her mother Marge with the knowledge that Marge had kidnapped Liz when she was a baby and Liz was really a member of the royal family in the made-up country they live in.

Tom wraps his arms around Jake and Jake sighs softly as he settles against Tom, smiling happily.

The show starts and as usual, Liz is spending ages debating with herself whether to confront Marge or not. They hit the first commercial break, then the second and Liz still hasn’t even gone to Marge’s house. It’s incredibly frustrating and Tom’s getting as anxious as Jake is and he keeps insisting that the confrontation will happen any minute. Finally, Liz goes to Marge’s house and Jake finds himself holding his breath as Liz rings the door bell. Just when Marge opens the door, the show fades to commercial, which makes Tom groan. “Oh, come on!”

They anxiously wait for the commercial to end and Jake’s got his hand twisted in Tom’s shirt, so excited about what will happen after the commercial. When the commercials end, Jake’s gearing up for what he’s been waiting days for…only for Tom to hit pause right when Marge’s face comes back on the screen.

What the hell?! “Why did you pause it?!”

Tom gently rubs Jake’s back. “It’s really close to two hours.”

Right. It’s almost time for his lines. For the first time ever, Jake doesn’t feel excited about having to do his lines in—he checks his watch—three minutes. Instead, he’s annoyed that he’ll have to delay watching Liz and Marge’s confrontation just to do his stupid lines. He knows he has to do them and he’s just whining, but he really wants to watch the show first. He presses his lips together. “Can I do them after the show ends?”

Tom’s calmly rubbing his back. “It’s up to you.”

Jake thinks it over. He usually sleeps for way longer than two hours at night, so doing his lines every two hours isn’t a requirement. He just can’t do lines before two hours have passed, but he’s probably allowed to delay them. That makes sense. Otherwise, he’d have to sleep in two hour increments and Tom’s never mentioned such a rule existing. So it makes sense that he can delay the lines.

It’s actually really annoying that he’s having to waste time thinking about this whole situation. For one crazy second, he’s cursing his stupid lines. He doesn’t want to delay the show in order to do his lines. In fact, it’s stupid that he has to spend time thinking about when and how to do this lines. He wants to watch the show instead.

“Jake? What’s going on?”

Jake sighs. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t want to do his lines. He has to do them. He has to get his total down to zero. It sucks and he doesn’t want to, but he has no choice. Looking at his watch, he realizes his stupid internal debate has wasted four minutes, so it’s time for his lines anyway. Letting out an annoyed breath, Jake pushes himself off Tom and gropes for the stupid pad of paper and stupid ruler and stupid pencil on the coffee table. “I’m fine, I’m just whining in my head. I’ll do my lines really quickly and then we can watch Liz confront Marge.”

“Okay, but hurry up. I’m about to die from anticipation.”

That makes Jake feel a little guilty. Tom doesn’t have lines to do. He could watch the show, but he’s being nice and waiting for Jake to do his stupid lines.

With absolutely no enthusiasm, Jake pulls the pad of paper onto his lap and lines up his ruler. As much as he wants to hurry so he can get back to the show, he can’t risk screwing up his lines. That makes his annoyance with the whole situation grow because he wants to get it over with, but if he screws up then his total will restart in the 6000s and that would be horrible. So he takes deep breaths and carefully makes his five notches on the paper and does his five stupid lines as perfectly as he can while Tom and Liz and Marge and the rest of the world waits for Jake. When he’s done, he tosses everything back on the table and lies back down. “Okay, hit play.”

Tom wraps his arms around Jake and kisses him on the head as he presses a button on the remote and they can finally watch Liz confront Marge.

* * *

It’s a struggle to keep his smile hidden from Jake, but Tom’s barely paying attention to Liz’s melodramatic wailing on the screen. His plan’s working out perfectly. He’s discreetly using Jake’s investment in the show and the structure of soap operas to his advantage and he stops the show whenever things get good to remind Jake about his lines.

It’s working out very well. With Jake’s growing investment in the show and the constant cliffhangers, Jake’s really excited about watching the developments on the screen and he’s getting less excited about constantly stopping to draw five silly lines on the paper.

It was a very good decision for Tom to limit Jake to just five lines. At first, he’d done it so Jake would be getting plenty of rest, but it’s having an additional benefit now. No matter how excited Jake gets about the show, he can’t rush through a hundred lines and then relax for the rest of the day because that’s not how the rules work. Tom wants Jake’s OCD to annoy him. He wants Jake to get frustrated with the stupid rituals and pointless activities the disease makes him do. He needs Jake to get to a point where he’s questioning why he has to do these stupid things. Then Jake will realize he doesn’t have to but he’ll have trouble stopping because of the control the OCD has on him. That’s the only way Tom will get Jake to see how harmful the disease is. That’s the point Tom needs to get Jake to. Once they’re a united front in fighting this disease, they can start waging war on it.

And to Tom’s joy, his plan is slowly working. Jake’s frustration at having to delay Liz’s confrontation with Marge just because he has to draw five stupid lines on a piece of paper right then and there is a wonderful sign. It’s the first time Jake’s ever reacted negatively to doing his lines and that means they’re on the right track. It also means it’s time for Tom to push a little harder. It’s time for Tom to really demonstrate how inconvenient the OCD is for Jake’s life.

* * *

To Jake’s dismay, his annoyance at doing his lines seems to increase with each passing day. His two hour deadline seems to always hit at inconvenient times. In the middle of a good part of a show. In the middle of Jake contemplating his next chess move. In the middle of him and Tom having fun in the pool, where they’ve been spending more and more time. To keep from constantly getting interrupted, Jake switches to waiting for his two hour deadline to hit before starting a new activity, then he quickly does his lines before hurrying to start whatever activity he’s eager to do so he can finish before the two hours are up. But that’s annoying too. It sucks that his entire life revolves around his watch and doing his stupid lines.

Tom never seems to get annoyed about it and he never seems to mind cutting short their pool time or cuddling time or pausing a show or a game. But that’s annoying Jake too. It’s not just his life that’s being controlled by the stupid line total, it’s Tom’s too and that’s not fair.

It comes to a head one morning when Jake decides to make a careful schedule of his day, splitting everything into two hour segments and he’s getting more and more annoyed as he keeps moving activities around to make things fit. Finally, he slams his pencil down and glares at the schedule.

“You okay?” Tom asks as he wanders by, munching on an apple.

Jake sighs loudly. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m just annoyed that I have to plan things out like this. I know I have to do my stupid lines, but I hate it.”

Tom casually sits down at the table across from him and chews on his apple. “Then why don’t you just stop doing the lines?”

Scoffing, Jake rolls his eyes. “Right. Any other stupid suggestions?”

Swallowing his mouthful, Tom leans back in his chair, the picture of nonchalance. “Why is it stupid?”

What an idiot. Jake snorts. “Because I _have_ to do my lines!”

“But why do you have to do them? I never told you that you have to do the lines, neither did your parents or anybody else. So why do you have to do the lines?”

Jake gapes at him. “You told me the rules so clearly, you want me to do my lines!”

“Yeah, I told you the rules but that was to make doing the lines manageable for you. I never told you that you have to do the lines in the first place. Since you’re the one who seems convinced that you have to do them, please explain why.”

Why is Tom focusing on stupid things instead of helping Jake make a schedule? “Because I have to get my total down to zero,” he explains, feeling like he’s talking to a three year old.

“Right, but why? Why do you have to get it down to zero?”

Jesus Christ, did Tom’s brain stop working overnight? “Because I’m at 5735.”

“But why do you have to do 5735 lines?”

Jake slams his fist on the table, incredibly annoyed by Tom’s stupid questions. His hands start aching because he’s clutching them into fists, but he doesn’t care. “Because. I. Have. To. Get. Down. To. Zero!”

Tom stares at him. “You’re talking in circles, Seever. Listen to what you’re saying. You’re not actually answering my question.”

“Yes, I did!”

“No. You didn’t. Why do you have to do lines at all? I’m not asking why you have to do this specific set of lines. I understand where the 5735 number comes from and that you’re trying to get it down to zero. I’m asking why you have to draw lines on a piece of paper all day. What are you actually accomplishing by getting the number down to zero?”

It’s on the tip of Jake’s tongue to retort that he’ll accomplish finishing his set. But Tom’s made a good point. Jake’s never once asked himself why he’s doing these lines. Doing lines is a normal part of his life. Like breathing. Like eating. But those things have a clear purpose. What’s the purpose of doing his lines? And Tom’s right—saying that the purpose is to get down to zero isn’t good enough. That can’t be the only reason he’s devoting so much time to doing them and why his entire life revolves around that activity. That would be ridiculous. Jake stares at Tom, feeling panicked as he wracks his brain, trying to remember why he has to do the lines.

Tom stares back at him, taking another bite of his apple and chewing slowly, waiting for Jake. Because Tom doesn’t have the answer. Jake needs to have the answer. Doing the lines is his responsibility…but…why? What’s the point? “I…don’t know what the purpose is,” he whispers.

For some reason, fear is shivering through him. Doing his lines is the most important part of his life. That’s what his entire life revolves around. It’s definitely not good that he can’t remember why he’s doing it. “Tom?”

“Hmm?”

“I…there has to be a reason. There _has_ to be. Somebody must have told me I need to do these lines for some reason. They gave me this task and I kept screwing up and my total kept climbing.”

Tom puts down his apple and puts his elbows on the table, staring at Jake very intensely. “You gave yourself this task, Jake. Nobody else.”

Jake doesn’t remember doing that and what’s worse, he can’t remember why he’d set himself such a silly task. What the hell is making lines on a piece of paper accomplishing?! Panic begins to overwhelm him and he wants to cry.

Thankfully, Tom comes around the table and kneels down beside him. “What are you feeling?”

“I’m…I don’t understand,” Jake whispers. “I have to do my lines…but you’re saying that nobody’s forcing me to do them except myself?”

“That’s right. Nobody else cares if you do the lines. Just you. So if you wanna stop any time, you can do that.”

That pushes Jake’s panic even higher and he turns wide eyes to Tom. “I can’t just…stop doing the lines.”

“Of course you can. Nobody else cares if you do them. If you don’t wanna do them, you can stop and nothing bad will happen. Nobody will be angry and there won’t be any punishments.”

That stops Jake short. This whole time, he’s been thinking that somebody forced him to do these lines. But Tom’s right. If he’s the one who set this silly task for himself, then he can just stop doing it.

The thought of no longer doing his lines is very exciting. His life will no longer be ruled by his watch and his stupid ruler and pencil. He won’t have to pause shows or stop cuddling with Tom or stop eating or get out of the pool and hurry upstairs to do his lines. And that’s the way it should be. It’s really annoying that Jake’s been letting this silly made-up task run his life like this. It’s embarrassing. But that’ll stop right now. No more lines. No more two hour deadline. No more stupid total. His leftover 5735 lines can rot. They don’t really exist. It’s a number that Jake had forced on himself and that’s ridiculous. “Tom?”

“Yeah?”

Jake clenches his jaw, feeling equally embarrassed and determined to get his life back on track. “I’m not doing any more lines. I’m very sorry for having inconvenienced you with this ridiculousness for so long. You’ve been very patient and I’ve been very silly. But that stops now.”

Tom has a small smile on his face, but his eyes look a bit worried. “Okay. I’m happy to hear that.”

Giving him what he hopes is a reassuring smile, Jake purposefully shoves his carefully made schedule aside. “What would you like to do next? We have all the time in the world.”

* * *

Things are fine for two hours after Jake’s revelation. But when he glances at Tom’s watch and notices that it’s time to do his lines…things get complicated. He automatically gets up from the table where they’re playing cards so he can go to the couch and do his lines, but he freezes as soon as he’s standing up.

He’d promised himself he wouldn’t do lines anymore. Drawing five stupid lines on a paper is ridiculous and nobody cares if he does it or not. It’s a waste of his time, a waste of Tom’s time and there’s no point. He doesn’t want to do it.

But the thought of not going over to the couch is making him feel panicked. He knows the 5735 total is sitting there on the paper, waiting for Jake to get it down to 5730. He was planning on getting down to 5720 today and then finish the 700s tomorrow. The thought of reaching the 600s tomorrow makes Jake’s stomach flutter with that old excitement. He wants to do his lines. But he doesn’t. But he really does. It’s confusing and stupid and Tom’s watching him, patiently holding his cards.

Jake realizes his jaw is clenched and that panic is making his heart race as his hands itch to pick up his pencil and ruler. He wants to do his lines. No. He _needs_ to do his lines. Even if it’s ridiculous, he needs to do his five little lines.

But then he realizes how pathetic he’s being. Here he is, standing in the middle of the living room, Tom’s waiting for him to take his turn in the game they’re playing and Jake’s torn over whether or not to go to the couch and draw five stupid lines on a piece of paper. Sighing with annoyance at himself, Jake sits back down and picks up his cards with shaking hands. He stares at the cards without registering what they say, his mind still stuck on the pad of paper waiting on the coffee table.

* * *

Tom’s careful to keep his excitement from showing. Having pushed Jake’s annoyance to the limit had been difficult and Tom had felt guilty doing it, but as he’d predicted, Jake’s intelligence had finally shone through the denial and he’d realized what a waste of time doing the lines is. But Tom’s research had indicated that this is just the start of a very difficult battle and it’s one that many people lose. Plus, Tom doesn’t believe that Jake’s fully accepted that the whole line issue is a result of a mental disorder and not just Jake being silly.

The first battle is won, but the war has just begun.

* * *

Jake can tell Tom’s trying to fill his day with as many distracting and happy activities as possible, but as Jake purposefully pushes through more and more two hour deadlines without doing any lines, the more anxious and horrible he feels. He can’t believe that not doing his stupid line ritual is having such a huge impact on him. It’s just lines on a paper. His total is just a bunch of numbers with no true meaning in Jake’s life. It’s annoying and he stubbornly refuses to let himself do lines the entire day.

But once they’re in bed and Tom’s fallen asleep, Jake’s left with no further distractions and he can’t turn his brain off. The paper pad keeps floating in his mind, the big ‘5735’ number an annoying, insistent reminder that he needs to finish his lines. He tries reminding himself that he doesn’t have to do it. Nobody cares if he draws 5735 lines on a piece of paper. It won’t accomplish anything.

But the number stays in his head, making him feel anxious. He’s clenching his jaw so hard that it’s aching and he’s shaking, desperate to do the lines and get his total closer to zero. The longer he lies awake, the more his thoughts roll around and he starts edging closer and closer to convincing himself that he should do a few lines. Just a few. He’ll just do five and maybe that’ll help calm him down. He’ll have done some lines today, he’ll have moved his total a little closer to zero and that should be good enough. He doesn’t want to, but he needs to do it.

But it’s stupid. It’s the middle of the night and he should be sleeping. He’s in a comfortable bed, Tom’s fast asleep next to him and Jake really doesn’t want to get up and do stupid lines. But if he doesn’t, he’ll never be able to calm down and fall asleep. As one hour slips by after another and Jake’s anxiety just keeps getting worse, he finally decides to give in. He’ll just do one set of lines.

As soon as he shoves the covers off himself and gets out of bed, excitement rushes through him. His anxiety is replaced by joy at the thought of getting to do some lines and getting his total down a bit. Smiling, he hurries through the dark bedroom and leans the bedroom door shut before rushing to the couch and sitting down. He grabs the pad of paper with shaking hands, smiling and his heart racing as he carefully lines up his ruler and picks up the pencil.

The ‘5735’ is staring up at him and Jake’s so excited that he’ll get to bring it down to 5730. He eagerly makes the five marks and when he draws his first line and knows he’s now down to 5734, he slumps with relief, smiling at the joy that’s radiating through him. It feels so good to be doing his lines! Yes, the whole thing might be stupid, but Jake doesn’t care. It’s making him feel so good.

He carefully does four more lines and triumphantly changes his total to 5730. Seeing that new number makes him grin, feeling like an enormous weight has been lifted off his shoulders. And that feels so much better than the anxiety that he’s been feeling and Jake quickly determines that he no longer cares if nobody wants him to do lines. Doing the lines doesn’t make Jake feel good, but the rush of relief when he’d finished his first set of five felt so good.

And as he stares at his new total, he’s desperate to do more lines. Pressing his lips together, he considers. Technically, he’d need to wait two more hours to do his next set…but he hasn’t done any lines since the morning. Doesn’t that mean he’s allowed to do the sets he’s missed out on? Yes, that seems fair. In fact, if he’s not going to do any lines tomorrow, he can do his tomorrow sets right now too.

Then he gets an even better idea. What if he finishes his entire set tonight? All 5730 lines? Then he’ll be done. He’ll never have to do another line again, he’ll have finished and he’ll feel calm and he’ll be able to move on with his life. Yes, that’s definitely the way to go.

Grinning, Jake bends over the paper and eagerly begins his next set of five. Now that he knows he’s not stopping, he doesn’t pause between sets. He just changes his total and keeps going, filling line after line with carefully drawn lines. His total steadily keeps decreasing and Jake’s shaking from excitement.

Everything goes really well and he gets down to 5120, when his hands start hurting. Specifically, the hand that’s holding the pencil, but his other hand is aching too. But Jake’s feeling so good that he doesn’t care. He’ll let his hands recover when he’s done. He keeps going, completely focused on his lines. He doesn’t care what time it is or how badly his hands are hurting, he just wants to finish. He needs to get his total down to zero and then he’ll feel happy and relieved and he can finally stop thinking about his lines once and for all.

“Jake? What are you doing?”

Tom’s voice shocks Jake out of the rhythm he’d been in and fear clutches him as he stares up at Tom standing over him. Jake’s first instinct is to hide the pad of paper, but Tom’s already seen it. He’s terrified that Tom will get upset that he’s been cheating and doing more lines than he’s allowed, when he remembers that the rules don’t really exist because Tom doesn’t care if Jake does lines or not. He wants to triumphantly rub it in Tom’s face that he can’t stop Jake from doing lines and he’ll reach zero soon…when the reality of the situation sinks in.

It’s the middle of the night, Jake’s sitting naked on Tom’s couch and he’s been feverishly drawing silly lines on a pad of paper for ages. When he glances at the microwave, he confirms with a sinking feeling that yes, he’s been here for about two and a half hours. Staring down at the pad of paper covered in carefully drawn pencil lines and the ‘5025’ total, Jake’s battling two opposing feelings. He’s still feeling that relief and excitement from getting to do his lines, he’s proud of having brought the number down by so much, but he’s also horrified at what he’s doing.

Is this really what his life has become? He gets excited about drawing stupid lines on a piece of paper? He used to be a chef! He graduated from one of the most prestigious pastry schools in the country! He used to make his parents proud.

And now, his parents would certainly not be proud of him. The urge to cry overwhelms him and Jake drops the pencil. His hands are aching and Jake realizes he hadn’t even cared. He’d been busy destroying his hands again—the hands that used to create beautiful desserts—just to do this stupid task that serves no purpose. And he’d been so consumed by it that he hadn’t felt ashamed about what his life had become. He’d been so happy, sitting on this couch and doing his lines.

Taking a shaky breath, Jake stares up at Tom. For the first time, Jake finally understands that this isn’t good. This isn’t good at all. The last time he’d gotten caught up with doing his lines, he’d ended up in the hospital after nearly starving to death and his hands had taken weeks to recover. His body’s still recovering from what he’d done to it. And here he is, wanting to do it again just because there’s an arbitrary number written on a piece of paper. He’s terrified by what his mind has done to him and he’s also scared that he won’t be able to beat this. How does somebody defeat their own mind?!

“Tom?” he whispers. “Tom, I need help. I can’t…I can’t stop. I want to, but I can’t.”

Tom sits down next to him and pulls the pad of paper, pencil and ruler out of Jake’s hands and stuffs them behind a couch cushion. Then he pulls Jake onto his lap and wraps his warm arms around him, holding him tight. “I’m gonna help you,” Tom whispers, his voice hard and filled with determination. “I promise, I’m not gonna let it take you away from me again.”

Hearing that Tom will help him with this huge mess that Jake’s landed in fills him with relief and he bursts into tears, clinging to Tom and sobbing into his neck. Tom holds him and buries his fingers into Jake’s hair, his grip tight and reassuring. Jake feels like the pad of paper is trying to pull him back into its clutches, but Tom’s showing him that he won’t let Jake be taken. He’ll hold onto him and he won’t let that horrible whatever-it-is pull him back on the road to death.

Jake keeps crying and crying and eventually, Tom lifts him up and carries Jake back into the bedroom. Being in their warm bed helps Jake feel a little better and when Tom wipes his face with a tissue and pulls Jake into his arms with the warm blanket on top, Jake slowly manages to calm down. He’s still scared about what’s going on in his head, but being pressed against Tom’s chest and feeling him kissing his head and staying wrapped around him like a protective angel helps settle some of the fear that’s clutching his heart.

As Jake takes one shaky breath after another and calms down, Tom pulls Jake up so they’re both lying on the pillow, facing each other. Tom pulls the blanket up to their chins and throws a leg over Jake’s waist and pulls him close, their soft cocks nestled against each other as Tom presses their foreheads together, laying a gentle hand on his face.

Closing his eyes, Jake feels unbelievably grateful that he has Tom in his life. The last time he’d been pulled down this dark path, he’d gone willingly and he hadn’t noticed he’d been marching to his own death because he hadn’t had anybody to hold his hand and pull him back. “I love you,” Jake whispers in a shaky voice.

Tom presses a soft, lingering kiss against his lips. “I love you too.” Tom nuzzles Jake’s face with his nose and kisses Jake’s closed eyes and his cheeks, letting Jake absorb his strength and comfort like a sponge.

When that consuming fear finally leaves Jake, he’s desperate to talk about the situation and come up with a solution before that urge to do lines comes back. “I don’t know how to stop, but I want to,” he whispers.

“Tell me more. What happened after I fell asleep?” Tom’s breath is warm against Jake’s face.

He finds Tom’s chest by feel and wraps his arm around Tom’s back, pulling them closer together underneath the blanket. Being surrounded by Tom’s love and safety keeps his fears pushed back far enough that he can wrestle his thoughts into order a little better. “I didn’t want to do lines, but I felt so anxious about not doing them. I couldn’t stop thinking about that stupid number and wanting to get it down to zero. I didn’t want to do it and I know it’s stupid and pointless, but it was so easy to convince myself to give in and do it. I felt so much better when I finally gave in and started doing lines and seeing that total going down. I thought if I just finished them, it would be over.”

Tom sighs softly. “If you did that, you’d just find something else to replace it with. I read up on it and that’s really common. Giving in to the compulsions doesn’t stop them. It’ll find new compulsions for you to focus on.”

That’s not what Jake wants to hear and that fear comes rushing back, but Tom kisses him firmly. “Shh, don’t be scared. We’re gonna fix this, I promise. Don’t focus on being worried, focus on our conversation.”

It’s a struggle, but Jake can do that. “Okay.”

“What’s your brain telling you when it wants you to do the lines? How did it convince you to do them?”

Jake sighs softly. “The number was sitting there in my head, almost taunting me. I can’t stop thinking about it. I want to get it down to zero so badly, but I know it’s pointless.”

“We need to change the way you think about the number.”

That makes Jake snort. “How would that help? I’m obsessed with the number. It doesn’t matter if I’m fond of it or if I hate it.”

“Apparently, it does make a difference. If you change the way you think about it, it won’t make the obsession fade, but it’ll be a little easier to control the compulsion to actually do the lines.”

Jake frowns. “How do you know all this?”

“I read up on OCD a lot while I was waiting for you to wake up in the hospital.”

That makes Jake fall silent. He hates that stupid acronym. It makes him feel like a pathetic, weak person who does stupid repetitive things for no reason. That has never been true…

…until now. He realizes that’s exactly what he’s been doing. Not only that, but he’d been letting the stupid repetitive things control his life to such an extent that they nearly killed him. He’d nearly starved to death, he’d damaged his hands, he’d made himself stay in a cold, dark and lonely place for two months, all because his brain had convinced him to. Whether he likes it or not, he does have OCD and it’s not something mild that Jake can just brush aside. It’s a crushing thing to accept, but Tom’s covering his face with soothing kisses.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Tom whispers. “Your brain got sick but that’s not your fault.”

“I feel pathetic,” Jake mumbles.

“You’re not. A lot of people have mild OCD and it’s never a problem for them. Your OCD was always helpful when you were in the kitchen, but I think when your parents passed away, you were looking for a distraction and your were in pain and vulnerable and the OCD flared up.”

At the mention of his parents, Jake wants to cry again. “They’d be so ashamed of me.”

“No, they wouldn’t be. They’d react the exact same way as if you got some physical illness. They’d be worried sick and their only focus would be on you getting better. This is exactly the same thing.”

“I’m not physically sick,” Jake scoffs.

“Your brain’s sick and that’s the same thing.”

At first, Jake hates everything about this, but as he lets Tom’s words slowly circle around in his head, he starts feeling better about it. Maybe OCD isn’t just a situation he’d blindly wandered into because he wasn’t paying attention. Maybe his grief really had made him vulnerable and his brain had gotten sick. Jake wouldn’t blame himself if he got a cold from somebody who he didn’t know had a cold. That would be silly. And he hadn’t known his OCD would get so bad. So really, he hadn’t done anything wrong. His brain is sick and Jake needs to focus on helping it recover instead of blaming himself for getting sick when it wasn’t his fault. “I like thinking about it like that.”

Tom smiles and kisses him. “Good. That means we can focus on coming up with a plan to get you healthy.”

Hearing the ‘we’ makes Jake feel even better about the situation and he eagerly kisses Tom back, pulling him close. But the sheer amount of work that’s standing in front of him is intimidating and he clutches Tom.

But Tom keeps kissing him. “Don’t focus on what you’re thinking,” Tom whispers. “Pay attention to how warm you feel, how nice it feels to be pressed together, my breath on your face.”

As soon as he focuses on Tom’s breath against his lips and the warmth and softness of Tom’s skin pressed against his own, his mind fills with those sensations and pushes all of his fears away. His arm is wrapped around Tom’s back, Tom’s leg is slung over his hip and Jake can nudge Tom’s nose with his own if he moves just a little bit. Their soft cocks being pressed together feels strange but nice at the same time. The blanket is so comfortable around him, wrapping them both in a warm cocoon.

Keeping his eyes closed, Jake doesn’t allow any other thoughts to invade his head. He’s too busy cataloguing ever single sensation he’s getting from their bodies and listening to Tom’s slow, calm breathing.

That’s enough to quickly pull Jake into sleep without thoughts of the stupid lines bothering him.


	27. Chapter 27

Jake manages to not think about the lines or that stupid number until Tom’s feeding him breakfast in bed the next morning. As usual, Jake’s holding the warm plate on his lap as he nurses his hands that are sore from his disastrous night. Tom’s rubbing his stomach with one hand and feeding him with the other and Jake feels as fantastic as he always does when they do this…until he remember that he usually does his lines after breakfast but he won’t be allowed to.

Well, he’s allowed to, but he doesn’t want to. It’s stupid and a waste of time and he doesn’t want to, but once he starts thinking about it, that anxiety comes flooding back. His stomach clenches and that panic wells up inside of him again and he’s shaking.

“What’s wrong?” Tom murmurs into his ear, gently rubbing Jake’s stomach as he lowers the fork to the plate.

“I don’t want to do lines,” Jake whispers, squeezing his eyes shut because he hates how pathetic he’s being. The pad of paper fills his mind and all he sees are the rows of neat lines he’d done last night and the ‘5025’ total that he’d reached. When he remembers how well he’d done last night and how he’d done 710 lines, that excitement and pride comes rushing back…

…but then he reminds himself that it’s all garbage. Those 710 lines mean nothing. He’d lost two hours of sleep and his hands are still sore this morning and for what? Those 710 lines haven’t improved his life one bit. In fact, they’ve made his progress go backwards. But he’s still so excited about those 710 stupid lines! He feels so proud of himself and he’s still desperate to do more. It’s ridiculous and he’s pathetic and he—

“You know you don’t have to do the lines, right?” Tom asks quietly.

Jake’s struggling to breathe, clutching the plate on his lap as he shakes. “I know,” he whispers, his throat tightened as he once again finds himself close to tears. That stupid pad of paper and the ‘5025’ are still dancing around in his mind and his fingers itch to get the paper and the pencil, but he refuses to give in. “I don’t want to do the lines but I can’t stop thinking about it. I get so excited when I think about doing the lines, even though I’ll hate myself afterwards. My stupid hands are sore and I’m tired and the 710 lines I did last night mean nothing, but I still want to do more.”

Tom wraps his other arm around Jake and holds him tight. “You need to change the way you think about that number. What were you at?”

“5025.”

“You want to do them because it makes you excited when you do them, right?”

“Yeah.”

“We need to make you more excited about _not_ doing the numbers.”

Jake sighs as he clings to Tom’s arms and presses back against his warm chest. “Not doing the numbers makes me anxious.”

“Yes, because you think of that 5025 as a poor, neglected number that you have to pay attention to. But it’s not. It’s a devil in disguise. It’s trying to trick you into giving it time and attention and when you do, it’ll hurt you. It’ll make you tired, it’ll fuck up your amazing hands again, it’ll make you push away the people who love you and it’ll keep you from doing things that you love.”

Tom picks up Jake’s hands and cradles them, holding them so gently as he holds them up. “You see your hands?”

“Yeah,” Jake mumbles, still feeling anxious and conflicted about the whole thing. He gets what Tom’s trying to do, but missing some sleep or having to delay watching a show for a little while to do his lines isn’t a huge inconvenience. It should be, but it’s easy to convince himself it’s not.

Tom’s rubbing his thumbs over his sore hands. “These amazing hands graduated at the top of their class from pastry school. These amazing hands work at one of the best restaurants in our country. These hands make beautiful, creative desserts that nobody else on the planet can create. And if you force these precious, talented hands to do those 5025 lines, you’re not just hurting them but you might damage them so badly that they won’t ever recover.” Tom draws in a shaky breath. “That stupid number has been torturing these amazing hands for two months and it doesn’t deserve to keep doing that.”

Tom sounds almost angry, but he’s still holding Jake’s thin, pale hands so gently. Staring down at his hands, Jake thinks about Tom’s words and realizes how right he is. Jake’s a chef. He might not have a job anymore and he might not be fit to be on a professional line, but if he’s ever going to cook something again, he’ll need his hands. If he wants to create the kind of beautiful desserts he’s used to creating, he’ll definitely need his hands. And if he permanently ruins them because of these stupid lines, that would be devastating.

“That stupid number doesn’t deserve to destroy your hands,” Tom whispers in his ear, his tone hard. “It wants you to focus on how happy you’ll feel after you’re doing the lines but that’s because your OCD wants you to ignore everything bad that’ll happen if you give in. Will that excitement and relief ever replace your hands?”

That answer to that is obvious. “No. There’s no way. I’d eventually finish the lines and that’ll be over. But if I lose the use of my hands…that would kill me.”

Tom releases Jake’s hands and wraps his arms around his chest again, holding Jake tight. “This stupid obsession doesn’t deserve to destroy you. It nearly killed you and it’s trying to do it again and you can’t let it win. Don’t let it steal your time, your hands and especially your life from you. No amount of relief or excitement from doing the lines is worth that. Keep repeating that to yourself.”

Tom gently picks up one of his hands again and lifts it up so Jake’s staring at his hand. The same hand that’s created thousands of desserts that people have paid ridiculous sums of money for and used to make his parents proud. “Do _not_ let your illness destroy what’s really important to you. The OCD doesn’t have that right. Whenever you have trouble keeping that anxiety back, you remind yourself that you’re making the right choice by not giving in.”

Staring at his hand in Tom’s grasp, Jake takes a deep breath. Tom’s words really have helped him change the way he thinks about his OCD. It’s an enemy. It’s a sly, manipulative enemy that’s trying to destroy him by masking its destructive tendencies in temporary happy highs. And he won’t continue giving the OCD what it wants. His time, his hands, his life are things that belong to Jake and Jake alone and he’s not going to hand them over to an illness that’s dug its claws into his head.

* * *

But no matter how determined Jake is at beating this thing and not doing his lines, the OCD isn’t giving up easily. Jake constantly thinks about wanting to do lines and that anxiety stays clenched in his stomach. Even cuddling with Tom on the couch while wrapped in his mom’s brown blanket as they’re watching their show isn’t a good enough distraction. He’s barely paying attention to the people on the screen or to Tom’s arms rubbing his back.

He wants to do lines. Just a few. Just enough to get his total to the 4000s. He just needs 25 more and he’ll be done with the 5000s. That would feel amazing. Even though he knows he’ll hate himself afterwards, the pad of paper keeps floating in his mind, being tempting and whispering to Jake that it’ll feel good to do those 25 lines and finally finish the 5000s.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Jake closes his eyes and clenches his jaw as he keeps saying ‘no, no, no!’ to the ‘5025’ that’s filled his mind. That desperate urge to give in and do the lines is so damn strong, but Jake doesn’t want to give in. But he does. But he doesn’t. But the more anxious Jake gets about it, the angrier he gets. It’s crazy that this stupid thing has such a hold on him! Sitting up, Jake glares at the television. Watching television isn’t a good enough distraction. He needs something more. Staring down at Tom, Jake forces himself to unclench his hands and grip his thighs instead. “I’m going to the gym.”

Tom looks sad. “The show isn’t a good enough distraction?”

“No. But you can keep watching it.”

Snorting, Tom sits up and grabs the remote. “I’ll record it. We’re not gonna let the stupid OCD keep you from watching your show. We’ll watch it when we get back from the gym.”

That makes Jake feel guilty. “You don’t have to come with me.”

Tom gives him a soft smile. “No, but I’d like to. If you wanna go by yourself, I’ll stay here.”

Jake sighs. “No, I want you to come. But I hate that my stupid problem has become your problem.”

Grabbing Jake’s face with both hands, Tom gives him a hard look. “I love you and that means when you have a problem, I wanna help you fix it. I don’t feel obligated to do it, but I want to.”

That’s something Jake can relate to. When Tom had been attacked, Jake remembers how badly he’d wanted to help Tom and be there for him. He hadn’t felt pressured to do it but he wanted to do it because taking care of Tom was important to him. Thankfully, it seems they’re on the same page. Smiling, Jake pulls Tom’s hands off his face and squeezes them as he kisses him hard. “Let’s go to the gym and tire my silly brain out.”

Tom laughs against his lips and pulls back, getting off the couch. “I hope that treadmill is ready to get a work out.”

Jake smiles grimly. “Oh, it better be.”

* * *

Exercise really helps. In general, Jake finds that physical activity is the only thing that will distract him enough from his silly obsession. Watching television or playing chess doesn’t work because if only Jake’s mind is engaged, thoughts of doing the lines come creeping back in and they easily overwhelm whatever thoughts Jake had been trying to cling to. But physical exercise gives him so much to focus on that the silly ‘5025’ number gets pushed out of his head.

Going to the gym is great, swimming is fantastic, playing fast card games that require a lot of movement is wonderful but the best is making out with Tom.

Tom’s the one who had makes that discovery. They’re playing a board game and while waiting for Tom’s turn, Jake’s mind once more starts obsessing about doing lines, just a few lines, just enough to get himself down to the 4000s…and he realizes he’s sitting here, clutching the edge of the table and breathing hard as excitement makes him shake.

Tom tries distracting him with questions about the game, but Jake ignores him. He so close to getting off his chair and finding his paper, pencil and ruler…

…but then Tom swings around the table and kneels down by his feet. “Jake, stay focused on me. I know you wanna do the lines but remember what they’ll do to you.”

Jake stares down at him, shaking and wanting to cry with how badly he wants to do lines. Just a few. Not even five. Just two would be enough.

Tom grips his knees and squeezes them hard. “What does that number mean? What purpose does it serve in your life?”

Drawing in a shaky breath, Jake struggles to talk through his tight throat. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he whispers. “It’s a stupid number that my sick brain created.”

Tugging Jake’s hands off the edge of the table he’s gripping, Tom holds up Jake’s hands. “If you do the lines, what’s gonna happen to your hands?”

“They’re going to hurt. They might get permanently damaged.”

Tom’s staring at him as if he’s hoping that Jake’s own words will help turn his excitement and desire into hate. Unfortunately, it doesn’t. Jake knows doing the lines isn’t good for him but he can’t stop that desire. He wants to do just a few lines and he doesn’t care whether that’ll hurt him, his hands, Tom or anything else. That realization stuns him because Jake realizes the OCD is stronger than him. It doesn’t matter what he says to reason with it or push it back, the OCD is stronger and it’s easily making Jake betray and ignore everything that’s important to him.

Tears well up in his eyes and Jake clenches his jaw, terrified of what’s happening to him. “Tom…it’s not working. It…I still want to do my lines. I don’t care if it’ll kill me or make me lose my hands or you or anything else. I still…I want to do my lines. I want to get that number down to zero. Or at least the 4000s.”

A devastated look flashes across Tom’s face, but that’s quickly masked by a hard, determined look. “You wanna go to the gym again? Or play a faster game? We can go out for a run if you’re sick of the gym.”

It’s on the tip of Jake’s tongue to ask Tom to switch to a different game because they’d gone to the gym just a few hours ago and he’s still tired, but Tom’s determined look changes to a smirk as he offers up another solution. “Or do you wanna make out a bit?”

As soon as Tom makes that offer, a new desperation fills Jake, but this one’s warmer and nicer than the one related to the lines. He almost slides off the chair to crawl into Tom’s lap and lose himself in Tom’s kisses and hugs…but then he pauses. “I can’t take advantage of you like that. I’m not paying you for sexual services so that wouldn’t be appropriate.”

Tom makes himself comfortable on the floor and looks relaxed as he chuckles. “If I were doing it as a pure favor, then yeah, I wouldn’t offer a freebie. But this wouldn’t be a favor. Kissing you is something I love doing.”

Jake still doesn’t feel good about it. “It feels weird to do it as a distraction.”

Pressing his lips together, Tom looks hesitant about responding, but he seems to gather his courage and blurts out: “I’d really like to resume our sexual relationship. I know you’re not ready for that and I completely understand, but if you’d like to make out, I’d love that. But only if you wanna do it.”

Having Tom mention their sex lives takes Jake by surprise. He hasn’t even thought about sex in ages and even when he’s kissing Tom, he hasn’t gotten turned on. Hopefully, that’s only been because his body has been recovering from the trauma it’s been through, both the physical trauma of nearly starving to death and the emotional trauma of losing his parents and his descent into OCD hell. Jake isn’t ready to have sex with Tom, but he realizes this is another area where Tom’s been making sacrifices out of his love for Jake. Tom hasn’t mentioned wanting to have sex, he hasn’t complained about not having any and he’s never pushed Jake about it. After their conversation in the shower when they’d come home, Tom hasn’t brought it up again, willing to give Jake time.

But Jake’s ready to be pushed a little. Or to push himself a little. He remembers how wonderful it had been when he and Tom had been having sex and he wants to get back to that. But he doesn’t know if his body’s ready for that. “I really want to start having sex again but I don’t know if my body will cooperate.”

Tom gives him a soft smile and opens his arms in that familiar invitation. “Come here.”

Jake doesn’t need any further encouragement and he slides onto the floor and climbs onto Tom’s lap, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in Tom’s neck.

Tom holds him tight and rubs his back, letting out a happy sigh as he does it. “Jake, listen. Like I told you before, sex should always be something we both wanna do with each other. You’ve been through so much and it’s normal that you’re not ready to have sex. I told you that we can re-evaluate that after a month and see how we’re feeling. We’re still far away from that deadline.”

Sighing against Tom’s neck, Jake clings to him. “I think I’m not ready to jump back into sex right now, but I want to start pushing myself a little. Us doing intimate things together always made me feel good and I want to feel that good again. If it’s a distraction for my stupid OCD, that’s even better. But that’s not my main motivation. I want to move back towards where we were.”

Tom squeezes him hard. “Okay, then we’re on the same page. You wanna head over to the couch?”

Jake smiles. “You want to get more comfortable before we start making out?”

Chuckling, Tom lightly smacks Jake’s ass. “You bet.”

With his grin growing and that warm glow burning bright in his chest, Jake gets off Tom and lets Tom lead him to the couch. Tom sprawls out on the couch and spreads his arms again as Jake eagerly climbs back onto his lap and makes himself comfortable.

Sliding his arms around Jake, Tom pulls him closer. He’s smiling so softly and he looks so happy and that makes Jake feel even more excited about this and without hesitating, Jake leans over and brushes his lips over Tom’s. It feels as good as it always does and Jake does it again and again until Tom starts kissing him back. With excitement and joy radiating through him, Jake slides closer to Tom and gently puts his hands on Tom’s face as he tilts his head a bit and licks at Tom’s lips, eager to do more. They’ve kept their kisses chaste ever since this whole disaster had started and Jake wants to experience the joys that they’d reached before all of this.

Tom lets out a soft gasp as he parts his lips and when Jake slides his tongue in, Tom’s tongue is right there to greet it. They gently rub their tongues together and it feels as intense as it always did, pulling a soft whimper out of Jake. Tom keeps their kisses slow, which is good because Jake feels a bit clumsy as he moves his lips and tongue against Tom’s having forgotten how to do this. The more they kiss, the more annoyed Jake gets when he doesn’t time things right and his poor performance is becoming a distraction.

Eventually, Tom pulls back and leans his forehead against Jake’s, gently rubbing his back. “Calm down,” he whispers. “You’re doing really well but you’re getting too excited. You haven’t done this in a while and just like in the gym, you gotta take things slow until you get back into the rhythm.”

Jake’s so glad that Tom’s not telling him to stop and Jake didn’t even have to explain what he was feeling because Tom knows him so well. Making a bit of a face at his poor performance, Jake sighs softly. “Okay.”

Tom brushes his lips against Jake’s. “Get that look off your face, Seever. It felt amazing and it’s gonna keep feeling amazing. Just follow my lead until you get back into it.”

Jake wants to apologize or keep stewing in his annoyance or a bunch of other things, but Tom saves him from all of that by kissing Jake harder and sliding his tongue between Jake’s parted lips. This time, Jake concentrates and focuses on copying what Tom does. As they’d done when Tom had been teaching him how to do this the first time around, Tom’s patient and sets a very slow pace, keeping his movements consistent and gradually transitioning from one thing to another, giving Jake plenty of time to keep up and settle into each new rhythm.

Eventually, Tom speeds up a bit and changes the angle of his head, which always throws Jake for a moment, but after he does it a bunch of times, everything begins to feel more familiar and the last of Jake’s annoyance fades away.

This is amazing. Not only is it fun, but Jake loves that the person he’s kissing is Tom. From time to time, he pulls back a bit to open his eyes and grin at Tom, who always slides his eyes open a sliver and returns Jake’s sappy smile with his own. Tom’s hands on his back are so warm and gentle and being pressed against Tom’s solid warmth in front of him feels great too. When Jake’s truly settled into it, Tom starts adding more fun into it, varying the speed and encouraging Jake to keep up with him and Jake happily races along with him, his heart glowing with joy. To his surprise, a little hint of arousal starts simmering in his stomach. It’s not enough to get him really excited, but Tom had said that’s not what this is about so Jake doesn’t worry about it.

Best of all, his stupid OCD has no chance to keeping his attention when he’s busy kissing Tom.

* * *

As the days go by, it gradually gets easier. The obsessive thoughts still intrude at random times of the day and night, but Jake knows all he has to do to not give in is distract himself with some type of physical activity. Another great distraction is watching videos of his parents and looking at pictures of them with Tom, but that also makes them both sad and Jake doesn’t like doing that too frequently. Spending his days making out with Tom, playing games with him and tracking his progress in the gym provides him with plenty of distraction and his total stays at 5025.

Some days Jake doesn’t feel very good and the urge to do his lines is stronger on those days and sometimes he ends up lashing out at Tom when his frustration and anxiety spill over. But Tom never takes it personally and just throws Jake’s gym shorts at him so they can go down to the gym and Jake can run on the treadmill for twenty minutes.

Every single day, the frequency of his OCD urges decreases and the urges becomes weaker. Every single morning when Jake wakes up after having done another successful day and night of not doing any lines, Tom greets him with a happy kiss and tells him he’s proud of him. That always makes Jake smile, not just because Tom’s proud of him but Jake’s proud of himself too.

The increase in gym time also has the added benefit of helping Jake gain back some of the muscle mass he’d lost. His appetite has returned to normal and whenever he weighs himself every few days, he’s always happy to see that the number keeps climbing higher and he’s getting close to his former, healthy weight.

His hands have also nicely recovered. Tom still helps him do his morning exercises but his hands no longer ache when he’s doing different things during the day. It’s a huge relief that Jake’s OCD hasn’t managed to leave him with permanent damage.

In general, things are finally going very well.

* * *

To Jake’s delight and relief, his recovery takes another big step forward when he’s making out with Tom on the couch one afternoon and that low simmering arousal in his gut finally expands and grows hotter. When he feels himself getting hard, Jake pulls back from Tom and grins. It’s normal for Tom to get turned on while they’re doing this and Tom usually ignores it but this is the first time Jake’s getting really turned on.

Tom’s eyes slide open and he looks sleepy and happy, like he always does when they’re making out. “You okay?” he mumbles, his lips shiny with spit.

“I’m getting hard,” Jake says, beaming at him.

Tom looks as delighted as Jake feels, but he also looks hesitant. “What do you wanna do about it?”

Jake hasn’t even thought about that and he can’t choose between all the wonderful things they used to do together when Jake’s cock had been fully cooperating.

But Tom must have misinterpreted his silence because he frowns and squeezes Jake’s hips. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable doing. If you wanna ignore it, that’s fine. Or if you wanna take care of it by yourself, that’s fine too.”

Jake bites his lip as he stares at Tom, feeling a hunger that he hasn’t felt in ages. “What if I want to take care of it with you?”

Tom’s smile is back and he looks radiant. “That would be amazing.”

It would, but there’s one thing that would make it even better. Jake glances down and sees the familiar bulge in Tom’s pants and that kicks his arousal up another notch. Jake sees Tom’s cock a lot during the day but he’s missed seeing it when it’s hard. He’s also missed seeing Tom enjoying his own arousal and he wants to experience that again. He stares at Tom and his breathing’s picking up speed. “Would you want to join in?”

That makes Tom’s smile grow into an eager grin. “You bet. Hands only or do you want my mouth?”

While Jake’s missed having Tom suck him off, he wants to keep kissing Tom and watch him feeling good at the same time as Jake. “Hands, please.”

Tom gently smacks his hip. “You wanna budge over for a sec and I’ll go get the lube?”

Grinning, Jake purposefully puts a hand on Tom’s chest. “Let’s be efficient here, Carlson. You stay exactly where you are and I’ll go get the lube.”

Tom’s smile is radiant and his eyes are shining. “Can I take my pants off while I wait?”

“That would be helpful, yes. And I’ll do the same.”

Grabbing Jake’s face with both hands, Tom kisses him hard before smacking his ass, the smack harder than before. “Hurry up before I come in my pants, Seever.”

Grinning, Jake slides off his lap and hurries to get lube. When he gets back to the couch, he notices that Tom has taken off all his clothes and he’s relaxing on the couch, a lewd smile on his face as he slowly fists his cock. The sight of Tom’s hard cock sends a shudder through Jake and he tosses the lube on the couch before peeling off his own clothes and climbing back onto Tom’s lap, grabbing his face to kiss him hard, sliding his tongue into his mouth and eagerly pressing himself against him.

Jake’s so turned on that he’s shaking and he can’t get enough of kissing Tom and feeling his hands all over him. “Touch me. God, please—touch me,” he mumbles against Tom’s lips.

Tom fumbles next to him but thankfully doesn’t stop kissing Jake before his slick, warm hand is wrapped around Jake’s cock, massaging it. Tom’s thumb rubs against that spot right below the head of Jake’s cock and a jolt of heat shudders through him as Jake groans loudly, his hips eagerly shifting back and forth.

The only thing that would make this better would if he were touching Tom’s cock, so Jake pulls back from Tom’s lips and looks for the lube, gasping and shaking. “Where—I need—”

Thankfully, Tom knows what he needs and he grabs the lube because dealing with it himself has become an impossible task. Tom squirts some lube onto Jake’s trembling hand and Jake wastes no time looking down and eagerly wrapping his hand around Tom’s cock. The heat and shape of it is immediately familiar and he rubs his hand along the thick length.

Tom lets out a choked moan and his hand tightens around Jake’s cock, massaging the head of his cock and rubbing over the slit, making Jake’s free hand spasm with arousal and he slides his hand up Tom’s body, desperately searching for something to grab. He doesn’t want to grab Tom’s hair but he needs to hold some part of Tom. He needs to be closer to him. “I need—I—”

Tom’s staring at him, his lips parted as he’s gasping for air and his eyes are half-lidded with arousal. “You need what? Tell me.”

Jake’s never felt this turned on before. His arousal is pulsing through him and he needs to be closer to Tom. No knowing how to put this into words, Jake struggles to think and finally comes up with the answer. It’s very difficult to release Tom’s cock, but he manages. “Let—let go for a second.”

When Tom’s released him, Jake slides off him and lies down on the couch next to him, spreading his legs so one foot’s on the floor to brace him and the other is draped over the back of the couch. Trembling, he holds out his arms towards Tom. “Come—please come here. Please—I need—not—not fucking, just—please. I need—please—”

As always, Tom’s brilliance saves the day as he gets it right away and plasters himself over Jake, slotting their cocks against each other and kissing Jake hard. As soon as Tom’s weight is settled on top of him, Jake’s arousal shoots even higher and a warm glow is spreading through him, making him smile as he’s kissing Tom. Being surrounded by Tom like this feels even better than it usually does and he eagerly wraps his legs around Tom’s waist, tightening his thighs against him and wrapping one arm around the back of Tom’s neck and the other around his back.

Tom’s lips never stop moving against his and Jake eagerly slides his tongue against Tom’s, both of them drawing in choppy breaths as they keep kissing and Tom keeps thrusting against his cock. That warm glow in his heart is rapidly expanding and Jake’s feeling a million different things at the same time. He loves Tom so much. He’s so grateful to be alive. He’s so happy that he has Tom. He feels alive. But most importantly, he loves Tom and despite how difficult being with Jake has been lately, Tom loves him too.

Pulling back from Tom’s lips, Jake gasps up at him, clinging to him. “I love you,” he whispers, staring up at Tom.

Tom opens his eyes and that wonderful, soft smile spreads over his face as he kisses Jake hard. “I love you too. Fuck, I hope you know that. You better know that. Tell me you know that.”

Jake lets out a shaky laugh. “Yes, I know that. I still can’t believe it, but I know it.”

“Oh, I’m gonna make you believe it,” Tom mumbles, diving back down and kissing him before he reaches between their bodies and wraps his slick hand around their cocks. As Tom fists their cocks in a hard, intense rhythm and sends his arousal spiralling even higher, all Jake can do is cling to him with his arms and legs and gasp against his lips, filled with love for this amazing man.

Tom alternates jerking their cocks with rubbing his thumb over the heads of both their cocks and Jake keeps staring up at him as Tom watches him with a smile and such love glowing in his eyes until his orgasm hits him and Jake’s body tenses as he comes.

“There you go. Damn, I’ve missed that so much. You look gorgeous when you come, you know that?” Tom breathes against his lips, nudging Jake’s nose with his own as his hand keeps rubbing Jake’s cock and Jake keeps shuddering through his intense orgasm.

When he’s done, Jake tightens his arms around Tom and grins up at him. “Let me see you come.”

Tom’s eyes are so soft and he kisses Jake before pressing his forehead against Jake and his hand works his own cock in hard, fast strokes until he’s coming.

Jake can’t stop smiling, so happy that they’ve made it back to this part of their relationship. He feels good and when Tom collapses against him, breathing hard and trembling, it’s clear that Tom feels good too. Rubbing his chin over Tom’s hair, Jake closes his eyes, tired and happy as he keeps his arms and legs tightly wrapped around Tom and feeling better than he has in months.


	28. Chapter 28

Things continue improving. Now that Jake’s sexual desire has returned, he and Tom are pushing their sexual relationship forward at a rapid pace, both eager to get back to where they’d been before.

But as Jake’s rapidly getting healthier both physically and mentally and the OCD urges begin to decrease, Jake finds himself spending more time examining his current routine and he’s a bit taken aback by how strangely limited his life really is.

While Tom’s feeding him breakfast one morning, Jake finds himself questioning why on earth Tom is feeding him like he’s a child. Jake likes having Tom do it because it’s comforting and every time Tom rubs his stomach or feeds him another forkful of food, it reminds Jake how much Tom loves him. But why has this become an established part of their routine? In fact, once Jake starts thinking about it, he realizes that this isn’t the only thing Tom does for him for no reason. Tom helps him get dressed. Tom orders food for him. Tom bathes him.

When he’d come home from the hospital, he’d still been weak and had needed Tom’s help with many things. Then the OCD had taken over and all of Jake’s energy had been focused on that. But now that he’s regaining control of his life, Jake’s shocked to realize that he’s actually much further from that goal than he’d thought.

It’s shocking to realize that despite Jake’s accomplishments lately,  his life is still a faint shadow of what it used to be. Jake used to live independently. He used to live in the room right next to Tom’s. He used to be a chef. He used to work in a fine dining restaurant serving food to the richest people in the country. He used to cook food for himself. He used to feed himself. He used to jump into the shower and get clean on his own without any help. He used to be independent and fully in control of his own life. And now he spends his days letting Tom do many of these things for him all because Jake hasn’t realized how far he’d fallen.

“Jake? You done eating?”

The fork with a piece of bacon pierced on it is hovering right next to Jake and he stares at it, feeling a mixture of discomfort, horror and anger. Tom’s voice was so casual, like feeding Jake is a normal part of his day. Like Jake needs him to do it. Like Jake’s a helpless, incompetent moron.

Reaching up, Jake pushes the fork away. “Stop.”

“You’re seriously leaving the last bit of bacon for me? Who are you and what did you do with Jake Seever?”

Tom’s voice is filled with laughter and that makes Jake flush from embarrassment. Jake’s ridiculous behavior is no big deal to Tom because he’s gotten used to Jake being like this. Pushing away from  him , Jake shifts to the middle of the bed and hunches in on himself. He can’t believe his life has turned into this and that Tom just gave up on him and accepted it.

There’s a clatter of dishes and Tom crawls up and sits next to him. “What’s wrong?” That jovial tone is gone from his voice.

“I can’t believe this is what my life turned into. I can’t believe I _turned_ my life into this,” Jake whispers, staring at the blanket that’s wrapped around his waist because he’s too ashamed to look at Tom.

“What are you talking about?”

Jake clenches his jaw and takes a shaky breath. “You’re feeding me breakfast like I’m a small child. And I didn’t see a problem with it until two seconds ago! And you have no problem spoon feeding me because you know I’m pathetic and—”

“Hey!” Tom’s hand grabs Jake’s chin and he’s being forced to look at Tom, who’s giving him a hard look. “You’re not pathetic. You’ve never been pathetic and you never will be. I’m not taking care of you because you’re incompetent. I do it because you’ve been through hell and I’ve been through a much milder version but still hell and taking care of you made both of us feel good.”

Jake makes a face. “Still. It shouldn’t have ever come to that point. My hands weren’t broken and I didn’t suffer some debilitating physical trauma.”

Tom’s staring at him. He doesn’t say anything for a while, but his hand tightens on Jake’s chin. Finally, he sighs softly and his hand grows gentle. He looks sad. “Do you understand how close you came to dying?”

Jake rolls his eyes. “I’m aware of that. I nearly starved to death and that’s terrible, but I’m still annoyed at the state of things.”

“Jake…the way you say that, it sounds like you’re just saying words. I don’t think you’ve actually processed what you went through. You weren’t in a car accident and trapped in a car for two weeks. You locked yourself in your room and you nearly starved to death despite being surrounded by food.”

Jake stares at  him . It sounds awful when Tom talks about it, but despite Tom having said this same thing to him multiple times, it always sounds like something that happened to somebody else. Something that has no direct impact on Jake. Like a natural disaster that occurred half a world away. “I just don’t feel as emotional about it as you do. I think it’s because I don’t remember much about it.”

Tom frowns. “How much do you remember?”

As he thinks about it, Jake realizes he actually has very few real memories of the last few months. He knows it’s been almost three months since his parents passed away, but he only knows that because he knows today’s date and the date of the plane crash. But the time in between is mostly a blank. It doesn’t even feel like three months have passed.

“I just remember a couple of things. I actually don’t like that…” Frowning, Jake gets an uncomfortable tight feeling in his throat. It’s disturbing to know that three months have passed but he only has a tiny collection of memories from that time. Definitely not three months worth. He knows it’s normal for people who like to drink heavily or use drugs to not remember periods of time, but the feeling is completely alien to Jake and he doesn’t like it.

“What do you remember?” Tom asks him softly.

Jake chews on his lip, thinking. “I remember decorating my dad’s birthday cake. You were with me. We were talking to my parents on the phone. That’s the last clear memory I have.”

Tom looks very worried at that and Jake knows why. He knows that happened prior to his parents’ passing, which means it happened more than three months ago. So that’s not good.

“What else?”

The next memory is one that Jake hates thinking about because it makes his throat tight and brings that familiar grief back. “I remember being in the pantry with Chef. She told me about the plane crash. She kept telling me she was sorry. She looked so upset and I’ve never seen Chef look that upset.”

At the mention of his parents, that stupid grief clogs his throat and tears well up in his eyes without Jake even thinking about his parents directly. Just mentioning them is enough to bring him close to tears, as always.

Tom reaches over and gently squeezes his hand. “What do you remember after Chef told you?” His voice is rough too, but Jake gladly lets Tom push him away from those memories. This conversation is too important to let it get derailed by their grief.

“I remember we were at my parents’ house somehow. You and me. We were sitting in their living room. But I’m pretty sure that was just a dream.”

Tom clenches his jaw at that but he doesn’t tell Jake whether he’s right or wrong so Jake keeps going. “Then I remember being in my room, cutting the wall. I was doing my lines. I was really cold and hungry and my hands hurt so badly. Then I remember being in hospital with you.”

There’s a frown on Tom’s face and he sighs softly. “That’s all you remember?”

“Yeah.” That fear crawls down his back again and Jake stares at Tom. “How…how the hell did I go from being in the pantry with Chef to starving myself and cutting endless lines on a wall? That’s…how did that happen? And why can’t I remember any of it?”

Tom grabs Jake’s hands and gently squeezes them. “After a trauma, it’s normal for our brains to block those memories. It thinks it’s doing us a favor and sometimes that’s helpful. Other times…not really.”

Jake’s shaking, desperate to fill those blanks and understand how he’d gone from being the executive pastry chef at a high end restaurant to spending his days starving himself and cutting lines into a wall. It doesn’t make any sense!

Thankfully, Tom seems to understand what Jake’s feeling. “I know what that’s like. You remember when I was attacked?”

Abruptly, memories of that other traumatic time in his life comes back and Jake remembers barging into Tom’s room after that asshole had left and finding Tom on the floor, bleeding and in pain. He closes his eyes as his panic over his own missing memories blends with the pain of remembering Tom’s suffering. “Yes, I remember.”

“Well, I don’t.”

Jake opens his eyes and stares at Tom. “Seriously?”

Tom makes a face and nods. “Yeah. I just remember how nice it felt when you were sitting on the chair next to your bed and moving the ice packs around. I remember a lot of when you were taking care of me, but I don’t remember the attack itself. We’ve talked about it, so I know what happened, but I don’t have any memories of it.”

“You never told me that.”

Tom shrugs, looking sad. “It wasn’t relevant. I’ve been attacked a couple times before and I don’t remember any of them. I’m happy I don’t, but those were always isolated incidents. The period of time you’re missing is a lot more and I think it has to do with your parents.”

That reminds Jake again how much he misses them and how much he wishes they were here. He’d be embarrassed for them to see how far he’s fallen, but on the other hand...if they were still alive, maybe this whole mess wouldn’t have happened?

“Jake?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want me to fill in the blanks for you? I don’t know everything that happened, but I can give you some stuff.”

The offer immediately excites  him . He knows whatever happened during these three blank months wasn’t good, but he hates feeling so helpless. Knowing a little more about what happened might help him feel better about how far he’s fallen. “I’d like that.”

Tom slides back up to the head of the bed and leans against the propped up pillows. Watching him, Jake desperately wants to cling to Tom during what he knows will be a difficult conversation. But he doesn’t want to put pressure on him.

Catching his eyes, Tom gives him a soft smile and holds his arms open. “You can sit wherever you want, but there’s a cuddling spot open right here, if you want it.”

That makes Jake smile and he crawls on top of Tom, who slides further down and wraps his arms around his back as Jake nuzzles his chest. As usual, feeling Tom’s solid, warm body against his own fills him with such joy. “Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you. You know that, right?”

Tom kisses the top of Jake’s head. “I know. And I love you. You know that too, right?”

Jake smiles and kisses Tom’s chest. “Yeah, I do.”

There’s silence for a while as Tom rubs Jake’s back with slow, gentle hands and Jake waits, not wanting to push  him . This conversation won’t be easy for either of them.

“Where do you want me to start?”

Jake shrugs. “How about from the pantry? I remember Chef telling me about the plane crash and that’s when everything mostly disappears.”

Tom sighs softly. “Okay. So Chef Mitra told you about your parents. I actually found out from a client. He was scrolling through his phone and he saw a news article about it. I came right over to your room and...that was a really tough night.”

Jake clenches his jaw, once again fiercely missing his parents. He misses talking to them. He misses seeing his dad smile and his mom laugh. He misses telling them about his day and what desserts he’d dreamt up and just chatting about random things.

“Then we had to go to your parents’ house to take care of a lot of things. We were there for about two weeks.”

That’s a surprise. “So you and me being in their living room really happened?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t a dream. You did a great job taking care of everything and you held everybody together really well. We went to the funeral too and that was tough, but you did an amazing job. They would have been really proud of you.”

That makes Jake smile. He can’t believe that he doesn’t remember anything about the funeral, but he’s glad that he’d done what his parents would have expected him to do.

“Then we came back to the hotel and you eventually decided you were ready to go back to work. That didn’t go well.”

Jake’s earlier happiness fades and he frowns. “Why?”

Tom takes a deep breath and his arms tighten around Jake’s back. “I came over to see you when I was done my session and you were really upset. You kept saying that Chef had fired you and everybody was ganging up on you and bunch of other stuff.”

Jake frowns as stomach clenches with discomfort. Well, this solves the mystery of why he’s spending all day hanging out with Tom instead of working, but he can’t believe that he’d screwed up so badly in the kitchen that he’d been fired. Shame makes him flush. This whole time, he’d known that he wasn’t working and he’d always assumed that the reasons weren’t his fault. Maybe the restaurant closed down. Maybe the restaurant switched to being a sushi restaurant or another type of cuisine that Jake isn’t trained for. All those reasons sound stupid but Jake had never stopped to consider that the reason he isn’t working is because he was actually fired from his job. That he’d actually screwed up so badly in the kitchen that Chef Mitra had fired him. That’s a horrifying and embarrassing thought and Jake almost wants to stop Tom from telling him more, but thankfully, Tom’s not giving a choice and he keeps talking. Unfortunately, he continues telling Jake horrible information that he’d rather not know.

“I had no idea what you were talking about and I tried to get more information out of you, but then you decided that I was the enemy too.”

This whole thing is getting crazier by the second. “Why would I do that?”

“You were still grieving and you weren’t thinking straight. I honestly don’t understand what I said that upset you so much, but you ended up breaking up with me and telling me to get out and not come back.”

A cold shudder runs down Jake’s back and he sits up with a jerk, staring down at Tom. All thoughts about his job and his parents and everything else gets shoved to the side as he deals with the most stunning revelation of all. He can’t believe he actually did that! Why would he do something so stupid?! Tom is his main support system. Why would he have turned on Tom so quickly?! “I  _broke up_ with you?!”

Tom makes a face. “Yeah. You were pretty firm about it. I knew you weren’t thinking straight but I thought you needed some space, so I gave it to you.”

That leaves Jake reeling . He’s half hoping that Tom will crack a smile and tell him he was kidding. But Jake knows he’s not. It makes sense that his descent from where he’d been to where he’d ended up would be traumatic and ugly but  he hadn’t really prepared himself for dealing with that reality.

“I can’t believe I did that,” he mutters. He can’t imagine what that conversation must have been like. Then he realizes it must have been a hundred times worse for Tom. Apparently, Jake had somehow convinced himself that breaking up with Tom was the right thing to do…but from the way Tom said Jake had been ‘firm’ about it, Jake is getting the impression that he hadn’t been kind during that conversation and that makes him feel awful. He stares at Tom, his heart aching. “What did I say during that conversation?”

Tom makes a face and his gaze drifts off to stare at the far wall instead of Jake. “You were angry and convinced that I was hurting you somehow.” The pain is clear in Tom’s voice.

Jake clenches his jaw, wanting to cry. “I’m sorry.”

“You weren’t thinking straight. You—”

Jake firmly shakes his head. “I know, but that doesn’t make it alright. You were being so wonderful the entire time and I repaid that kindness by being cruel.”

Tom finally meets his gaze, his eyes sad, but there’s a small smile on his face. “Please don’t beat yourself up about it. That’s not going to help you and anything that doesn’t help you will only hurt me too.”

“Still. I’m sorry.”

Nodding, Tom gives him another small smile and leans up to kiss his forehead. “I accept your apology.”

That should make Jake feel better, but it doesn’t. “In future, if I’m being stubborn and stupid about something and I’m telling you to leave, do me a favor and remind me what happened the last time I was being stupid, okay?”

“You weren’t being stupid.”

Jake shakes his head firmly. “No, I was. Maybe it wasn’t all my fault, but still. I hurt you and I hurt myself and I don’t want to do that ever again.”

That makes Tom’s smile brighten and in turn, it makes the heaviness in Jake’s heart lift a bit too. Unfortunately, he realizes Tom’s only told him the beginnings of his downward spiral. There’s no doubt that breaking up with Tom had been one of the catalysts which had led him down this dark path, but it’s not the only one. “Can you tell me more?”

Tom nods and sighs softly before looking up at the ceiling. When he starts talking, his voice is that flat tone again. Like he’s reading the information from a piece of paper. “So after you told me to leave, I left you alone for a few days. I thought you needed time to cool off and then we could have a rational conversation about things. So I called you, but your phone was turned off.”

Jake gapes down at him. It shocks him how easily he’d been able to shut Tom out. A tiny decision like turning off his phone had cut off a major communication line between them. Jake had taken away that option with just a press of a button.

“I kept texting you and calling you but you never responded and your phone was always turned off. I didn’t even know if you were still at the hotel or if you’d left. I asked the front desk and they told me you’d left, but it all seemed so odd to me. Everything that happened was so out of character for you. If you’d been anybody else, I would have accepted our break up and moved on, but I couldn’t. I knew the whole thing was related to your grief and I couldn’t let it go without making sure that you were okay.”

Frowning, Jake’s about to go off on the front desk agents. If they hadn’t lied to Tom for unknown reasons, Tom would have barged into Jake’s room much earlier and sorted things out before Jake got to the stage where he’d nearly starved himself to death. But then he remembers the front desk manager telling him during their conversation about Tom’s ban that Jake himself had engaged the privacy protocols. That means the staff were just following procedure. Once again, Jake realizes this was his fault. The world hadn’t abandoned him. He’d isolated himself from the world. With just a single phone call and then the press of a button, Jake had blocked off the world from interacting with him and helping him.

“Everybody kept telling me to move on, but I couldn’t shake this feeling that something really bad was going on. You pushing me away like that was out of character as was you disappearing off the face of the earth. Your phone being turned off for two months wasn’t like you either. I considered that maybe you’d blocked my number, but that too would have been strange.” Tom’s voice gets softer and more fragile as he keeps talking and Jake realizes Tom must be thinking about what Jake was doing while Tom was busy trying to figure out what had happened. During those two months, Jake had been slowly descending into a hell that he’d created. The whole thing is still a complete blank to Jake and he can’t really grasp how he’d gone from being angry at Chef firing him to waking up in the hospital after nearly starving to death…

“So I kept calling and texting and I even knocked on your door a couple of times, but you didn’t respond. I started to doubt that you were still at the hotel, but then there were the other mysterious parts of all this.”

The mention of another strange factor in this whole situation immediately distracts Jake and he focuses on Tom, even more desperate to put the pieces together. “What mysterious parts?”

“First, I talked to Chef Mitra. It turns out that you’re not fired.”

Jake’s eyebrows raise and hope glows in his chest. “Really?”

“Yeah. You just had a really rough time during that service and you were still grieving and she wanted you to take some time off. But that’s all. Somehow, you’d misinterpreted the entire conversation and that made the alarm bells start in my head. If you were wrong about something that big, that supported my theory that you hadn’t been thinking straight when you pushed me away. It made me even more determined to figure out what was going on with you.”

While the news that he might be able to get his job back one day is fantastic, Jake’s even more fascinated by this whole story. “What was the other mysterious part?”

Tom’s staring up at the ceiling as he talks, his eyes sad and filled with pain. “Chesa. Right after you’d broken up with me, Chesa left our floor and started avoiding me. I hadn’t done anything to her either and just like with you, she seemed to have decided that I was the enemy. But unlike with you, she seemed to be scared of me. I didn’t wanna push her so I left it alone for a while.”

Jake frowns, perplexed by Chesa’s behavior. He hasn’t seen her since he’d come home and he feels a bit guilty that he hasn’t even thought about her, but he reasons that he’s been distracted by so many other things that it’s hopefully forgivable. He’d noticed that Chesa hasn’t been part of the rotating crew of housekeepers who clean Tom’s room every day, but he’d just assumed she was sick or on vacation.

“Two months after our fight, I finally decided to give it one more shot. I wanted to figure out if you were at the hotel or not and if you weren’t, I’d accept that our relationship was over and I’d move on. I also wanted to find out why Chesa was acting weird, so I finally confronted her.” Tom’s voice breaks on the last word and he draws in a shaky breath and closes his eyes.

The whole situation still doesn’t sound completely real to Jake. It’s like Tom’s telling him about a movie he’d watched. But seeing Tom’s pain makes Jake’s heart clench and he lies back down on Tom but slides up so his face is pressed against the side of Tom’s.

Tom’s arms immediately wrap around him and he clings to Jake, shaking. “She was so scared that she’d get in trouble, but she ended up breaking the privacy policy and telling me that you were still in your room. That’d you’d never left. You’d been sitting right on the other side of this fucking wall behind us this entire time. I’d spent two  damn months sitting here, watching television, fucking clients, chatting with my  parents and friends…and you were just on the other side of the wall. Alone and drowning in grief.” Tom swallows hard. “That was really hard to deal with.”

Jake clenches his jaw at seeing Tom’s pain and puts a gentle hand on his face.

Tom reaches up and squeezes Jake’s hand hard before he seems to remember to be kind to Jake’s hands and eases up, gently pressing it against his face. “But that was before Chesa explained to me that you hadn’t allowed anybody into your room and you hadn’t left for two months. You’d stayed locked up by yourself for two months. We knew you didn’t have enough food in your room to last you for two months, so that’s when everything changed.” Tom’s voice is barely above a whisper and he’s shaking.

Jake kisses his cheek and keeps his nose pressed against Tom’s skin so he can feel Jake breathing and remember that  he’s alive.

“I had to get into your room. I realized this wasn’t about my curiosity anymore but we had to save your life. We didn’t even know if you were alive at that point. I was terrified that I’d spent weeks sitting here, on this bed, wasting time while you died on the other side of this wall, alone, starving and scared. I had to get into your room and I wasn’t gonna wait one more second. Chesa gave me the keys and I managed to get in. You’d barricaded the door shut with furniture but I was so scared that I barrelled through it.”

The whole thing still sounds like a bizarre movie to Jake. Definitely not something that happened to him. But Tom’s pain is very real and Jake keeps his mouth shut. Tom’s doing this for Jake’s benefit, despite it being very painful for him. Even if huge pieces of the last three months remain a permanent mystery and the little bits of information that Tom’s managing to provide never become more than abstract words to Jake, he appreciates what Tom’s doing for him and he wants to hear the end of it.

“I got in and things were bad. Very bad. I was so damn scared that I was already too late,” Tom whispers, clutching Jake tightly and trembling. “I found you in the living room, next to the wall. You were sleeping and covered in your mom’s blanket and you were so still…I honestly thought you were dead. My heart nearly stopped. Then you woke up and I realized you weren’t dead but things were very, very bad. You were so weak and thin, your hands were bandaged up, you hadn’t shaved and you stank and you were wearing a filthy chef’s jacket. All of that was completely against who you are. But none of that was scarier than your behavior. You were so confused and out of it. You kept wanting to cut lines on the wall. I didn’t know anything about what you’d been doing so the whole thing was unbelievably scary. I seriously thought you’d lost your grasp on reality. You explained to me that you’d been doing cutting practice and you’d started on pasta and then ran out so you changed to cutting the wall instead.”

Tom’s voice is shaking. “Everything sounded so logical when you explained the complex rules behind the cutting ritual but the whole thing was absolutely crazy and you didn’t see it that way. Together with how bad you looked, I was terrified.”

Jesus. Jake still can’t comprehend how he’d gone from arguing with Tom to the broken, starving, crazy creature that Tom had found in his room that day. What’s even more bizarre is that nobody had forced him to do get into that state. Jake had somehow done it to himself. And that’s horrifying.

“You were so weak and thin and I was terrified that your body would give out and you’d die right in front of me. I called the paramedics and they took you straight to the hospital. The first few days were really bad because they thought you’d die. You were so close to death that they were worried your body wouldn’t be able to handle the life-saving stuff they were giving it. Seeing you on that bed, covered in tubes and wires and looking so pale…you looked like a corpse. It was really hard to see, but I wasn’t gonna leave you. Not ever again.” Tom’s voice is choked and his eyes are bright with unshed tears.

Jake keeps his hand pressed to Tom’s face, thinking about Tom’s last three words. ‘Not ever again’. Tom, the ridiculous, amazing, silly man seems to be blaming himself for what Jake had done to himself. A part of Jake is still caught up in how strange all of this is and how none of it feels connected to  him , but that all gets shoved to the side when he recognizes how much pain Tom’s in. Bracing his forearm on the pillow, Jake sits up and gently grabs Tom’s chin. “Tom?”

“Yeah?” Tom sounds close to tears.

“What happened to me wasn’t your fault. It was mine. I still can’t believe that I put myself into such a bad situation and let things get so badly out of control, but I know one thing for sure. It wasn’t your fault.”

Tom draws in a shaky breath, staring up at Jake with tears in his eyes. “I know. But I feel so damn guilty for not helping you earlier.”

“I’m the one who pushed you away and took steps to keep you away. That’s not your fault.”

Clenching his jaw, Tom lets out a choked sob. “I sat here for  _two months_ while you were suffering just on the other side of this wall! I don’t care whose fault it was that you were doing what you were doing but I feel so damn guilty that I didn’t rescue you earlier. I knew…I  _knew_ that you were grieving and you weren’t thinking straight and I should have pushed harder. I shouldn’t have let myself get pushed away so easily.”

Jake sighs softly, finally understanding Tom’s guilt. He also realizes there’s nothing he can say that would make it better. Telling Tom that Jake was fine and Tom helped him when the time was right would be a lie. Telling Tom that Jake hadn’t wanted to be rescued and would have been fine either way would also a lie. Jake doesn’t remember whether he wanted Tom to help him or not, but Jake had needed help. That’s a fact. And yes, if Tom would have barged in a month earlier, Jake would have been much better off. If Tom had broken his door down the day after their fight, all of this would have probably been avoided. There’s no guarantee, but it’s a good bet that Tom would have been able to push through Jake’s stubbornness and grief and helped him stay on a healthier track. But telling Tom any of this would only add to that guilt. Jake struggles to keep finding reassuring things to say and he finally realizes that there’s only one thing he can say to make it better.

Releasing Tom’s chin, Jake bends down and presses their chests together and kisses the tears off Tom’s cheeks as Tom clings to his back. “You have to let that guilt go. You were respecting my wishes by giving me space and I’m the one who turned off my phone and engaged privacy protocols. I didn’t leave you any means to help me. I was on a boat, floating in the ocean and I’m the one who cut the last rope that was keeping me connected to land and let myself drift away. That was my choice. It was stupid and I can’t believe I nearly died because of that stupidity, but it wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have—”

Jake kisses him hard, cutting off his words. “Stop. You have to let this go,” he whispers. “Sure, things would have been different if you had jumped into the ocean and swum after me, but you made a decision and so did I. We both have to live with those decisions and move on.”

Tom makes a pained sound and Jake kisses him again. “Tom, look at me.”

It takes a few more kisses until Tom opens his eyes, staring up at Jake with tears still clinging to his eyes.

“I want you to focus on the fact that you saved my life. You and Chesa. When I pushed everybody away, everybody stayed away except for you and Chesa. And you didn’t just keep worrying about me but when you put the pieces together, you barged right in and saved my life. I would have died if you hadn’t come in. You know that. You _know_ that.”

It’s something Jake’s still struggling to grasp because the whole thing still seems surreal, but from the desperate way Tom’s looking at him, his words seem to be helping. Tom draws in a shaky breath, but he’s nodding. He’d stopped crying but he still looks very upset.

Jake has no idea what else to say but from the way Tom’s still clinging to him, maybe Tom doesn’t need any more of Jake’s words. Lying down on Tom, Jake presses his face into Tom’s neck, breathing on his skin and letting Tom hold him tight, shaking and his breathing choppy.


	29. Chapter 29

Having Tom tell Jake about what happened during the missing three months doesn’t help Jake as much as he’d hoped it would. None of it feels real. It’s all just words. It’s very easy to believe that they’re things that happened to somebody else and his OCD isn’t a big deal. And that’s terrifying because continuing to think that this was all a surreal thing that happened to somebody else will keep the door open to having it happen all over again.

Tom’s told him more details of what happened when he’d found Jake since he hated not understanding how he’d gone from practicing his cutting skills to nearly starving to death while cutting lines on a wall. Tom hadn’t fully understood the progression of events either, but he’d told Jake all the clues he’d gathered and that allowed Jake to put together a full picture.

He’d wanted to practice his cutting skills, probably because he’d been upset by his supposed firing from the kitchen. His cutting practice had started out being practical, but Jake’s grief must have interfered and caused him to make mistakes. That must have been when he’d introduced that stupid ‘add-five-cuts’ routine. It’s actually not a bad way to make somebody practice a skill that they’re poor at, but Jake realizes it had been a terrible choice for him. He’d been too distracted by his grief to devote enough attention to the cutting and once his cutting total spiraled out of control, everything else went downhill right after it.

Thinking about it, Jake can tell exactly where his OCD took over and Jake had lost control. If he’d been paying closer attention, he would have realized that his cutting practice wasn’t working and he should stop and do something more productive with his time. But he hadn’t been paying attention and the OCD had grabbed hold of the ritualistic nature of the cutting and completely taken over Jake’s life. All the additional restrictions he’d forced on himself—not eating properly, sleeping on the floor, not watching his parents’ video—were all things his sick mind had thought up and his OCD had gleefully added into his routine.

It’s terrifying to realize how much the OCD had tortured him and how close to death it had pushed him. But Jake’s still struggling to avoid drawing his lines and when he’s really tempted to do it, he makes up excuses in his head for why this time it’ll be different from the last. But he knows it won’t be. He knows that his OCD will very likely take over again and he’ll end up in the same situation.

But the problem with all of this just being a bunch of words is that Jake feels like he’s fighting the OCD on level ground. The OCD is telling him doing lines will be good; Tom’s telling him doing lines will be bad. Jake needs something more to really hammer the point home. He needs to do something drastic that will leave him with indisputable evidence of how dangerous his illness is and how sick his brain really is.

He needs to see his room and the condition he’d left it in.

After finishing lunch, Jake puts his fork down and stares at Tom. “Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“I need to go back to my room.”

Tom frowns and lowers his utensils. “You know you can stay here as long as you want.”

“I know that. I don’t want to live on my own yet, but I want to see my room.”

Shifting his jaw, Tom looks worried. “Your room’s not in good condition. It’s exactly like we left it when I got you out of there.”

Jake nods. “I know, that’s the point. I need to see it. This whole thing still feels surreal to me and I’m worried that if it doesn’t sink in, I’ll be more susceptible to the OCD. I need to see what it did to me.”

Tom’s quiet for a long moment, staring down at his plate. Finally, he nods. “Okay. When do we wanna head over?”

Shaking his head, Jake gives Tom a soft smile. “You don’t have to go with me. I know seeing it the first time was very painful for you and there’s no reason for you to suffer.”

Tom snorts. “If you think I’m letting you walk back into that hell on your own, you’re sadly mistaken, Seever. Besides, I’ll go crazy staying here while you’re over there.”

“Are you sure?”

Tom nods. “Absolutely. Besides, you might have questions and it might help if I’m there. I might not know the answers, but maybe we’ll be able to put more of the pieces together.”

So it’s settled. Jake’s going to finally see physical evidence of what he’d gone through and hopefully, it’ll help him move forward. Well, first he has to go down to the front desk to get a new copy of his key because his own is still in his room. Then he’ll step back into hell.

* * *

With his hand on the door handle, Jake’s holding his key card with the other hand, ready to slide it into the slot. He glances at Tom. “Ready?”

Tom lets out a shaky smile, his arms hugging himself. “No. But we need to do this.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know, but I want to.”

Jake stares at Tom for another moment, giving him time to change his mind. When Tom stubbornly clenches his jaw, Jake knows his mind is set. Sliding the card into the slot, Jake watches the little light flash green and he pushes down on the door handle and swings the door open.

The stench is the first thing he notices. It smells like rotting food.

That smell sends a cold shudder down his back. He’s respected food his entire life and he’s never let any food go bad in his own home. Yes, nobody’s been in here since he’d gone to the hospital, but that smell is way too strong. There’s been food rotting in his home for a long time and that’s terrifying.

Shaking a bit, he clenches his jaw and pushes the door open more. The room is dimly lit and together with that stench, it doesn’t seem like his home. It seems like a tomb.

“Jake, you don’t have to go in there. We can hire professional cleaners who can put everything back the way it was before.”

Jake shakes his head. “No. This is exactly what I need to see.” His voice is shaking.

Without thinking about it, he reaches over and grabs Tom’s hand, who squeezes it hard. Stuffing the key card into his pocket, Jake slowly steps into that dark, revolting smell that reminds him of death.

They walk down the hallway, clinging to each other’s hands. Jake turns on the hallway light and he notices a bunch of little black fruit flies everywhere. He makes a face, cringing at the thought that his beautiful home has turned into a disgusting tomb that’s inhabited by insects. Even worse, he’s the one who had turned his wonderful home into this pit of hell. When they’ve reached the end of the hallway and are in the dining area, he can see into the living room and he realizes the drapes have all been closed, explaining the darkness.

His eyes travel around the room and it’s bizarre to see that some things are exactly where they should be, while other things are strangely out of place. Like his chairs and dining room table. They’re in a pile next to the hallway, the table on its side and the chairs thrown every which way. It turns Jake’s stomach to see the beautiful furniture being disrespected like that and he doesn’t understand why somebody would have done that. It couldn’t have been him. Please, don’t let it have been him. “Why are my table and chairs like that?” he whispers.

Tom’s hand is tight on his. “You’d barricaded the door with them.”

Jake blinks, staring at the table and chairs. It doesn’t seem real. “Why would I do that?”

“Maybe you heard me knocking and you wanted to keep me away? Or maybe you were hallucinating from hunger and thought somebody was trying to get in?” Tom takes a deep breath. “I had to shove all of it out of the way and climb over it when I came in, but then I pulled everything out of the way when the paramedics needed to bring the stretcher in.”

Staring at his pile of furniture, Jake still doesn’t feel like this is real. This can’t be his room. This can’t be his table and chairs. He couldn’t have pulled these things into the hallway and blocked the door like a crazy person. It’s annoying him that being here and seeing the evidence isn’t helping, so Jake decides to push harder. Releasing Tom’s hand, Jake reaches for the edge of the table…

…and as soon as he wraps his hand around the edge of the table, he remembers something new. He’d been holding the table just like this. He’d been pushing it. He remembers how heavy the table was and how much his hands had hurt.

Releasing the table, Jake stares down at his hand. “I think I remember pushing the table to the door. I still don’t know why, but I remember doing it. My hands hurt so badly and the table was very heavy, but I was really determined.”

Tom sighs softly. “You weren’t thinking straight.”

Jake stares at the pile of furniture. “Clearly.”

A hint of fear is starting to simmer through him and he doesn’t like being here. This dark tomb that smells disgusting with furniture that he’d used to barricade himself inside. It’s creepy and makes his skin crawl but that’s good. That’s what Jake needs. His OCD had kept him locked in this creepy tomb and he hadn’t been able to break free. Those words that Tom told him are no longer just words, they’re starting to sink in.

Taking Tom’s hand back, Jake slowly walks to the open door of his bedroom. That’s where the worst of the smell seems to be coming from and the cloud of fruit flies get thicker as he nears the door. Peering inside, Jake turns on the light…and is greeted with the creepy sight of his perfectly made bed, with his kitchen fruit bowl sitting in the center. The fruit in the bowl has gone bad ages ago and it’s crawling with black flies and the white blanket is covered in disgusting stains.

Making the whole thing even more bizarre is that Jake knows he’d put the bowl there. He doesn’t remember doing it, but he’d deliberately put a bowl of fruit in the middle of his bed and left it there to rot.

Tom’s rubbing Jake’s hand as he stands next to him, staring into the bedroom. “Any idea why you put the bowl on your bed?”

“No,” Jake says, clenching his jaw at the discomfort of the situation. “No idea. It’s right in the middle so I definitely put it there for some special reason. But I don’t remember it.”

Another shudder runs through him. Once again, this is further evidence of what his OCD had done. He’d become so consumed by his illness that he’d done something so strange and nonsensical. The worst part is that Jake knows at the time, it must have made complete sense. The OCD always makes complete sense when it’s trying to get Jake to do something. The whole thing is creeping him out and he nearly tells Tom that he wants to leave and get out of here, but he can’t. Not yet. He needs to see more.

The bathroom seems to be untouched and it’s weird to see his toothbrush and everything else exactly where he’d left them, but then they head into the kitchen. At first glance, the kitchen seems to be in order. The counter’s clean, there’s nothing in the sink and everything’s exactly where it should be. But the stench of rotting food is strong here too and Jake can tell it’s coming from the fridge.

As soon as he touches the fridge, another strong memory overwhelms him, but it’s not a visual memory. He shouldn’t open the fridge. He’s not allowed to open the fridge. Something terrible will happen if he opens it. None of that makes sense, but Jake’s shaking as he clutches the door handle.

“Jake? You okay?”

Jake struggles to breathe against the voice in his head screaming ‘don’t open the door!’ at him. “I’m not supposed to open the fridge. I don’t know why, but that feeling is so strong.”

“You don’t have to open it. It’s full of rotting food.”

Clenching his jaw, Jake shakes his head. “No. This…this is part of it. I…there’s something in here that’s important.”

Assessing the panicked feeling in his gut, Jake realizes he’s scared to open the door. That something bad will happen if he does it. It’s not that he’s not _allowed_ to open the door, but he’s not _supposed_ to. And he doesn’t like not knowing where that nonsensical feeling is coming from. This is his fridge and whatever’s inside belongs to him so it makes no sense that something’s telling him he’s not supposed to open it. Tightening his grip on the handle, Jake gives it a tug and pulls the door open.

The stench that pours out of the fridge is horrendous and Jake covers his nose with his spare hand, gagging. Tom lets out a “Jesus fucking…oh, my God” as he covers his nose too.

The horrible smell is adding to Jake’s anger at himself and when he sees that the fridge is full of good food that’s all gone bad due to Jake not allowing himself to touch it, that feeling gets worse. His OCD had convinced him to leave this food here, rotting for months.

Then his eyes land on his dad’s birthday cake taking up the entire lower shelf…and that’s when that fear come slamming through him again and he shuts the door in a panic. He needs to protect the cake! He can’t open the fridge door because he needs to protect the cake!

“Jake?”

“The fridge—it has to stay closed to protect it,” Jake whispers, shaking with panic.

“Protect what?”

“My…my dad’s birthday cake.”

“Your…fuck. The cake’s still in there? Fuck, of course, it is. Jesus.” Tom sounds close to tears.

Jake’s shaking, feeling so guilty over having opened the door. Now the cake will be ruined and the cake needs to be kept safe! It needs to be kept safe because it’s his dad’s birthday cake and oh, God, Jake’s ruined the cake but he’s supposed to protect it. The thoughts swirl around and around in his head and Jake knows—he _knows_ —they don’t make any sense, but he can’t stop them. Reaching out, he tangles his hand in Tom’s shirt. “Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“Help me,” he whispers.

He’s being roughly grabbed and turned around and Tom puts his hands on Jake’s face, staring at him intensely. His eyes are sad, but determined. “Do you wanna leave?”

Jake shakes his head, that guilt and panic still rushing through him, that voice screaming at him that he’s a horrible son and he ruined his dad’s birthday cake and—

“Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”

“I opened the door and the cake will be ruined. It’s my dad’s birthday cake and…and I ruined it,” Jake whispers, his voice shaking, the guilt making him want to cry.

Tom sighs softly and his face crumbles for a moment before he closes his eyes briefly and seems to gather his strength. When he opens his eyes again, he’s back to looking determined and strong; the pillar that Jake can cling to when his world is crumbling around him. “Jake, you didn’t ruin it but you also don’t need to protect the cake anymore. It…your dad’s never gonna eat that cake. I’m so sorry but you know that.”

Tom’s eyes are filled with sadness and Jake stares at him. That panic is still strong, but Tom’s words are helping. “I didn’t ruin the cake?”

“No. No, you didn’t. But you also don’t have to protect the cake anymore.”

Jake wants to ask why he doesn’t have to protect his dad’s cake anymore…but now that Tom’s calmed that panicked voice in his head, reality comes rushing back. His dad will never eat this birthday cake because he died before his birthday. His dad will never eat another birthday cake ever again. His dad will never celebrate another birthday. Because he and his mom are both gone. Forever.

From one second to the next, that grief slams into him and Jake bursts into tears, shaking.

Tom pulls him into his arms and holds him tight, pressing Jake’s face into his neck. “I’m so damn sorry, Jake,” he whispers in a choked voice.

The pain hasn’t been this bad in a while and Jake knows it’s probably because he’s back in his room where his parents had spent so much time. He’s right next to the counter where Jake had been decorating that beautiful cake and talking to his parents on the phone while Tom had stood next to him. Their conversation had been full of joy and laughter. Jake had deliberately smeared some icing on Tom. His parents had been so happy to come home and celebrate his dad’s birthday together. Now, they’re both gone and his dad’s cake has been rotting in Jake’s fridge for three months.

He misses them so much! He hates that he’s never going to see them again. How can this be his reality? How is he supposed to live the rest of his life without ever speaking to them again?

It takes him ages to calm down. The pain eventually lessens to manageable levels and once he’s all cried out, that familiar numbness takes him over. It gives him enough strength to pull back from Tom and grab some paper towel to wipe his face.

He hands another piece to Tom and when he’s opening the cupboard beneath the sink to throw both of them out and is confronted by the stench of the garbage, it helps to remind him why he’s here and what his new mission is. His parents wouldn’t want Jake to succumb to the OCD’s clutches again. They would want him to be strong and fight back. They’d encourage him to stay focused on his main mission today: confront the physical evidence of what his illness had done to him so he’ll have more strength to fight back.

When he glances at Tom, he sees that Tom’s still sniffing and Jake doesn’t want Tom making himself more upset. “Tom…I think you should go back to your room and wait for me there. I’ll be fine on my own.”

Tom scoffs as he sniffs back a few more tears. “Yeah, right. This is hard, but I’m not leaving you unless you force me to go.”

Knowing that Tom’s mind is made up, Jake takes his hand and walks out of the kitchen. Hopefully, there won’t be any further shocking reminders of his parents waiting in the living room.

It turns out there aren’t any shocking reminders of his parents there, but there are plenty of shocking reminders of what his illness had done to him. The first thing Jake notices is the couch being flipped upside down. He knows he’d done that to prevent himself from sleeping on it. Other pieces of furniture had been moved around and Jake can tell why. He’d cleared everything away from the far wall because that had been where he’d done his cuts.

Releasing Tom’s hand, Jake turns on the light and slowly walks closer to the wall. The cuts cover the lower half of the wall and they look like intentional texture that had been put on the wall, but Jake knows this wall used to be pure white. Without stopping, he heads right for the wall and stares in horrified fascination at the hundreds— _thousands_ —of small cuts that cover the wall, line after line after line. There are streak of blood and other stains on the wall, all evidence of how much suffering had gone into these cuts.

Touching the wall, Jake runs his fingers over the shallow cuts, using the same hand that had spent months carving them into the wall as it ached in pain and misery.

When he touches the wall, the memories come back. He remembers sitting here, right on the floor. Wearing filthy clothes, not having cleaned himself in weeks, with his mom’s brown blanket his only source of comfort. He’d been so hungry, tired and cold. Flexing his hands, he can almost feel the phantom memory of how badly they’d hurt as they’d carved the thousands of cuts covering this wall, one after the other.

Looking down at his feet, Jake sees a cup lying on its side, bits of cereal flakes all over the floor and his chef’s knife. This is where he’d lived for weeks. This is where his OCD had forced him to stay day after day after day; cutting lines into the wall that served absolutely no purpose.

There are sheets of paper lying on the floor, covered in writing and Jake crouches down and gently picks one of them up. The sheet is absolutely covered in crossed out numbers, arranged in neat columns, all in Jake’s writing. Every number increases by five. There are hundreds of numbers on the page and some of them are barely legible.

Frowning, Jake picks up all the papers and carefully puts them in order, starting from 50 and going all the way up to 6390. Some of the papers are crumpled and bits are torn off, as if Jake had been angry with them or handled them too many times. Others have streaks of blood or other stains on them, probably from his hands. The numbers always increase by five, so he’d written 1,268 numbers. He’d messed up his cutting 1,268 times and his OCD had forced him to start over with a new total, the number growing more impossible over time but Jake hadn’t been able to stop.

He knows he had to get to the 50 in the first place, so he’d screwed up even more than these papers show. But Jake realizes these papers show something even more important. Before he’d reached 50, he was in control. He’d set himself a simple task and he’d screwed up a few times and his total had grown to 50 after nine consecutive screw ups. But that’s fine. He’s screwed up things nine times before.

But when it came to the point where he had to start writing down his totals, that’s when Jake had started losing control and the OCD had completely taken over and Jake only existed to do its bidding. These papers represent his descent into hell and it’s both horrifying and fascinating to leaf through the pages and see how his writing had changed over the weeks and then months of torture that his illness had inflicted on him. At first, his writing had been his normal writing, straight and clear. But over time, the numbers got shaky and faint, the lines crossing them out jagged and hesitant; Jake’s devastation at having screwed up and having to deal with a new number being displayed by his reluctance to do the OCD’s bidding and cross out the number and write the horrible new number.

But despite being reluctant, miserable and in pain, he’d continued doing its bidding. He’d crossed out each number, despite not wanting to. He’d allowed the OCD to make his entire life revolve around these silly, meaningless numbers and this stupid task.

And he’d never stopped. He’d never questioned the OCD. That much is clear from these papers. Jake’s not missing any pages, so he’d never torn them up. His total always increased by five so he’d never said ‘This is ridiculous, I’m going back down to five because it’s my choice and nobody’s stopping me’. He’d never asked for help. He’d stayed here, sleeping on the cold floor and starving himself as he did his cuts and changed his total; obeying ridiculous rules that the OCD had forced him to set on himself. He’d obeyed the OCD without question and done its bidding, even though he must have known that it would lead to his death. He’d probably convinced himself that his death was a normal consequence for not being able to do his lines; which is a horrifying thought.

He realizes how important these papers are. Even if the rest of his room gets cleaned up, the cuts on the wall get repaired and all the furniture gets put back where it was, these pages will be the reminder that Jake needs. These dirty, crumpled pages are filled with the pain and suffering the OCD had inflicted on him and Jake can barely breathe from the horror that fills him as he stares at the pages. This is what his OCD had done to him and this is what it’ll do to him again if he doesn’t fight back every moment of every day.

Even now, staring at the final page with the ‘6390’ written on it, Jake’s getting the urge to pick up his chef’s knife and keep cutting on the wall, finishing what he’d started. His line drawing total is at 5025, but his knife cutting total is still stuck at 6390 and it would be so nice to just get it down to 6300. A nice, round number. Then he could get his line drawing total down to 5000 and that would feel so nice too. He could work on both projects and focus on getting both numbers down to zero.

No.

No, no, no. Stop it!

Staring at his chef’s knife on the floor, Jake’s breathing hard, the urge to pick it up and do cuts so strong. A part of him wants to leave and never touch the knife again but then he realizes this is also an important part of his recovery.

That’s his favorite knife. His parents had bought it for him as a present when he’d gotten his job at the restaurant. It’s a beautiful, fantastic knife that’s served him well for many years. The fact that Jake had used the knife to do the OCD’s bidding isn’t the knife’s fault any more than the pieces of paper can be blamed.

Reaching over with a shaking hand, Jake grabs the knife’s handle, grimacing at how sticky it is. Picking it up, he folds his fingers over the familiar handle. The memories of holding this knife when his hand had been aching are threatening to overwhelm him, but he pushes those back. He’s used this knife to make so much wonderful food. As he desperately searches for a more positive memory to associate it with, he suddenly remembers using the knife to cut up those hot dogs for Tom when he’d made him his favorite food while Tom had been recovering from his attack. He’d cut every hot dog slice at a perfect thickness and he’d cut small wedges out of each slice, turning them into stars that had made Tom so happy.

That memory makes Jake smile as he stares at the knife; the blade covered in white plaster powder. That’s the memory he wants to associate with this knife. It’s not an instrument of torture, it’s not his OCD’s ally. It’s a trusted friend that Jake used to make wonderful dishes that fed the people he loves. In fact, it’s not right for the knife to stay here, abandoned and discarded on the floor. It belongs in a kitchen. Following that thought is another realization: _he_ belongs in a kitchen too. He hasn’t cooked anything in ages.

Looking down at the pieces of paper in his other hand, those shaky, pain-filled numbers covering them, a new sense of determination comes over Jake. It’s time he gets his life back. A life that isn’t run by his OCD but run by Jake. He’s going to eat breakfast on his own. He’s going to bathe himself. He’s going to get professionals to scrub the filth and suffering out of his room so he can move back in and get back to the life his OCD had forced him to leave behind. He’s going to get back into the kitchen. He’s going to get a job again. He’s going to make his parents and himself proud again. “Tom?”

Jake’s happiness and new sense of determination is burning bright in his heart, but when Tom doesn’t answer right away, Jake frowns and looks over his shoulder.

What he sees makes his heart ache and makes all of his happy feelings fade away. Tom’s sitting on the edge of the upside down couch, tears pouring down his face as he cries quietly. Dropping the knife and papers, Jake rushes over and kneels at his feet, looking up at him. “Tom?”

Shaking with sobs, Tom stares at him, looking devastated. “I’m—I’m okay,” he mumbles.

Jake makes a dismissive sound. He knew it would be too difficult for Tom to come back here. Unlike for Jake, this visit hasn’t filled Tom with a new sense of purpose and a drive to move in a positive direction. For Tom, being here is probably just a horrible reminder of what he’d seen the day he’d rescued Jake.

Grabbing Tom’s hands, Jake squeezes them. “You saved my life. You know that. You barged in here when everybody else had moved on and you saved my life.”

“I—I know. But it—it’s hard being back here. I re-remember you lying there—” Tom points at the wall where Jake’s cup and his piles of cereal still sit. “—and I really thought you were de-dead.”

“I’m not dead. Tom, look at me.”

It’s a struggle, but Tom manages to tear his eyes off the spot on the floor that had nearly become Jake’s death bed. Reaching up, Jake puts his hands on Tom’s face and presses hard, letting him feel the warmth of Jake’s hands. “You feel my hands? I nearly destroyed them and you saved them. You swooped in and saved them when I was busy destroying them because I was so lost and weak. And you didn’t stop there. You’ve spent weeks helping my hands recover. You gave them love and warmth and attention and you never gave up on them. And that goes for the rest of me too. You saved my life. I wouldn’t be here right now if it hadn’t been for you, and I want you to focus on that.”

Tom’s face crumbles again and his hands tangle in Jake’s shirt as he starts sobbing again.

Standing up, Jake pulls Tom’s face against his stomach, rubbing his back with one hand and tangling his other hand into Tom’s hair. Tom wraps his shaking arms around Jake’s waist and clings to him as Jake bends over and kisses his head hard. “I love you so damn much and I can’t believe what you’ve done for me. Everything good I do for the rest of my life will be because of you.”

Tom just keeps crying and Jake stays bent over him, rubbing his back. “I’m alive and I’m putting all the broken pieces of my life back together and that’s all thanks to you,” he whispers against Tom’s hair.

Tom mumbles something that Jake can’t hear and he bends further down. “Sorry?”

“Pl-please don’t do that again,” Tom chokes out. “I can’t—I can’t lose you. Not like that. Please. _Please_ tell me you’ll fight.”

Kneeling down again, Jake grabs Tom’s face and stares at him, hoping to convey through his eyes how serious his next words will be. “I’m going to fight every single day for the rest of my life, I promise. I have the tools I need to fight and I’m never going to let my OCD or anything else drag me down like that ever again.”

Tom stares at him through tear-filled eyes and he’s shaking, his eyes pleading with Jake. For the first time since he’d entered his room, Jake finds that old anger at his illness coming back. His stupid OCD hadn’t only nearly destroyed him, but it’s also deeply hurt Tom. That’s not acceptable. Jake will never allow it to do that again.

Armed with those number-covered papers and that burning desire to never make Tom suffer again, Jake knows he has a clear path forward now. Bending over, Jake kisses Tom hard and stands up, grabbing the papers and his knife and stuffing them into his waistband. Going back to Tom, Jake takes his hands and gently pulls him to his feet. “Come on. Let’s go back home and we’ll spend the rest of the day cuddling in bed.”


	30. Chapter 30

Tom can’t stop clutching Jake as they go back to his room. Being back in the wreckage of Jake’s old room had been so much harder than Tom ever thought it would be. The place was a dark tomb, filled with horrible reminders that Jake had nearly died.

He’s barely paying attention as Jake gets them back home. Somehow, he ends up losing his clothes and cuddling up against Jake in bed. That’s fantastic because being close to Jake’s warm and alive body is exactly what he needs right now. He desperately clings to Jake, pressing his ear against his chest to listen to his thudding heart beat and feeling the warmth of his skin. It’s a stark contrast to how cold Jake had felt the day Tom had rescued him. He’d felt and looked like somebody who had one foot in his grave.

Jake still hasn’t gained back all the weight he’d lost, but he’s no longer as frighteningly thin as he’d been before. That makes things a little better, but Tom keeps shaking and flashing back to finding Jake, thin, filthy, starving, his hands bandaged up and looking so lost and near death.

Jake sighs softly and rubs his hands through Tom’s hair. “Tom?”

“Hmm?”

“Whatever you need, just take it. I want to help you, but I don’t know what will help you. Tell me or better yet, just take it.”

Lifting his head, Tom stares down at him. It’s selfish, but Tom doesn’t even consider turning down Jake’s offer. His heart is still aching and he’s filled with the same fear he’d lived with at the hospital; that Jake would suddenly stop breathing and he’d die right in front of him.

“I—can I—” His throat is too tight to get the words out, but Jake’s staring at him, looking very serious.

“I meant what I said. If you want to suck on my nipples or fuck me or have me fuck you or if you want food or anything else, just do it. It’s devastating to see you this upset and I want to do whatever’s necessary to make it better.”

Now that he’s received the open invitation, Tom doesn’t hesitate. Still shaking, he braces himself above Jake and dives for one of his nipples, wrapping his lips around the small bud and sucking. Jake lets out a soft breath and his hands tighten in Tom’s hair. Sucking and licking at the nipple as it hardens between his lips, Tom closes his eyes and gradually loses himself in the familiar motions. He has no idea why he’s always found this comforting, but like always, it helps to calm him down.

Jake’s alive. He’s right here, in bed with him. He’s warm and alive and he’s okay. He’s moaning softly as Tom gently nibbles and sucks on his nipples, moving back and forth between them, alternating his nibbling and sucking with licking over them. Jake’s chest and nipples are so warm, his heart is beating and he’s making small happy sounds. It’s all so far away from how Tom had found him and that fear slowly starts to fade.

But it doesn’t fade completely and when Tom shifts his leg against Jake’s cock and feels that he’s hard, a surge of want rushes through him. Pulling off Jake’s nipple, he stares at him. “Please fuck me,” he breathes out.

Jake nods immediately and releases Tom’s hair as he sits up. Tom changes places with him and lies down, planting his feet on the bed and groping on his bedside table for the lube. His hands are shaking with his desperate need to get Jake inside of him as soon as possible. He preps himself as fast as possible and sits up when he sees Jake struggling with the condom and puts it on for him, rubbing lube over his cock and wrapping his legs around Jake’s waist, his heart racing and every cell in his body filled with desperate want.

Jake looks worried and he’s staring down at Tom. “You know I don’t have enough experience doing this. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Tom breathes out, his throat tight. But this time, it’s not out of fear but out of a burning desire to have Jake fucking him. Jake, who is alive and recovering and won’t drop dead all of a sudden.

Clutching Tom’s legs around his waist, Jake shifts closer to him on his knees and his eyes are huge as he stares down and guides his cock to press it against Tom’s hole. Tom’s hole twitches against the press of Jake’s smooth cock head and he tightens his legs around him, pulling him closer and making Jake slide into him a bit more as Tom lets out a groan. “Please, please, fuck, please. All—all the way. I can take it, you know I can. Please, I need—“

After a bit more adjusting, Jake slowly slides into him, filling Tom up with the thick length of his cock and that makes him feel even better. Jake’s alive. His cock is hard and warm and he’s filling Tom up because he’s alive and healthy and he’s not going anywhere. Tom clutches his legs around Jake and holds him deep inside of him, his eyes dropping shut. He doesn’t care about having sex, he just wants to stay like this forever.

Jake shifts a bit and then makes everything better by leaning down and pressing himself against Tom, nuzzling his face with his nose as he braces his forearms on either side of his head and presses Tom’s stiff cock between their bodies.

“I’m alive,” Jake whispers, his voice shaking as his breath warms Tom’s face. “You can feel that I’m alive. I’m alright. You saved my life and I won’t ever scare you like that again, I promise. I’m going to fight harder than I’ve ever fought for anything to get my life back and make my new life even better than the old one was.”

He covers Tom’s face in warm kisses and Tom wraps shaking arms around him, clutching him desperately. Being surrounded by Jake’s warmth like this and having his hard cock filling him is exactly what he needs and he keeps his nose pressed against Jake’s cheek, breathing him in. He’s surrounded and filled with Jake’s scent, Jake’s body, Jake’s warmth. All reminders that Jake is alive and he’s okay and Tom will fight like hell so he’ll never lose him again. “I’m gonna do whatever it takes so that never happens again,” Tom chokes out.

Jake keeps kissing him. “So will I. And if we’re working together, I have no doubt that we’ll prevent this from happening again.”

Now that Tom’s feeling calmer, his arousal is starting to take higher priority. He’s ready to completely leave this ugly fear behind and get lost in the amazingness that is Jake fucking him. Jake, who is alive and will never leave Tom again. “Please fuck me. Hard.”

“I…you know I don’t have much experience with it. I think it’ll be better if you’re on top and you can get exactly what you want.”

Tom keeps clinging to him. “I’m getting exactly what I want. I just need you to fuck me. Stay deep and fuck me hard. Make sure you’re comfortable, but that’s all I want. Don’t worry about my cock or anything else.”

“Alright, I’ll do my best.”

Tom smiles, his heart racing from excitement rather than fear. “Thank you,” he breathes out.

Shifting himself back a bit, Jake gets himself situated, but stays as close to Tom as he can, which Tom appreciates. With difficulty, Tom unwraps his arms and legs from Jake, knowing the close proximity will make things more difficult for Jake, due to his inexperience.

Jake’s frowning with concentration as he slowly begins to thrust in and out of Tom. He keeps his movements slow, watching Tom’s face and stopping to shift knees closer to him. Tom stays quiet, letting him get comfortable, shaking from the desperate want that’s still rushing through him.

Finally, Jake starts fucking him harder, his hips smacking into Tom’s ass and that fire lights into a raging inferno in Tom’s body and his arousal shoots through him. “Oh, fuck…!”

“Is—is that good?” Jake gasps out, his voice shaking and that frown still on his face.

Tom nods and a smile spreads over his face. “God, yeah. I—fuck—keep going. Just—just like that. You can go harder, if you want.”

“Is—is the depth good?”

“Fuck, it’s perfect,” Tom mumbles, bracing his feet and lifting his ass a bit so Jake can get a better angle and get in as deep as he can go. It feels amazing and heat shivers up and down his body. Every hard thrust of Jake’s cock inside him reminds him that Jake’s alive, he’s okay and he’s going to fight his OCD with every ounce of his strength so Tom will never lose him again. The fact that Jake has the confidence to fuck Tom like this, despite his inexperience and his doubts is another sign that Jake is serious about reclaiming his life and even going beyond that and building a new one. And that’s amazing and also incredibly hot and Tom’s arousal is burning brighter and brighter as Jake fucks him hard, pounding into him and keeping him filled up.

When he’s getting close, Tom reaches down and fists his cock in time with Jake’s thrusts, quickly getting himself close to that edge. Staring up at Jake, whose eyes are wide and filled with such love, Tom clenches around Jake’s cock and comes, his orgasm slamming through him. Warm cum covers his hand and stomach and Jake looks awed by that and within just a few thrusts, he’s tensing and coming, thrusting hard into him.

Grinning up at him, Tom waits until Jake’s done, then reaches up and catches Jake before he collapses on top of him. Reaching down, Tom keeps the condom on Jake’s cock as he gently pulls off and takes the condom off him before sending Jake tumbling down on the bed, gasping for breath and staring at Tom like he can’t believe what he’d just done.

Tom ties off the condom and tosses it into the trash before he rolls on top of Jake, smiling down at him and kissing his gasping lips. “That was amazing, thank you. I feel a lot better.”

Jake’s grin matches his and he rubs Tom’s back. “I’m very glad I could help. That was amazing, but what’s most important to me is that you feel better.”

Pressing his forehead against Jake’s, Tom smiles as he feels Jake’s warm breath on his face and his arms on his back. “I do.” Kissing him, Tom rubs their noses together. “I love you so damn much.”

Jake smiles against his lips and kisses him back. “I love you too. We’re going to be alright, I’m sure of it.”

And with those words, the last traces of that ugly fear fades from Tom’s heart and leaves only the warmth of Jake’s confidence.

* * *

Despite the previous day having been difficult for both of them, Jake is still filled with that newfound determination to fully reclaim his life, and he’s starting right away.

The first thing he does after waking up is tell Tom that he’s going to be eating every meal on his own. It’s fine to feed each other if one of them is tired or in pain, but it can’t be part of Jake’s normal routine anymore.

Thankfully, Tom’s fully onboard with that. He’s not sad, nor is he too relieved. He just nods and says “Okay. Speaking of breakfast, can you order?”, which is wonderful.

Jake’s careful not to make too many changes right away. He still gets a little tired during the day if he pushes himself too hard and he wants to continue exercising in the pool, gym or going for a run once a day, so he doesn’t force himself to do too many new things at once. In addition to eating on his own, Jake also takes over washing and dressing himself. He’s still borrowing Tom’s clothes but he picks them out himself and gets dressed on his own.

The urge to do his stupid lines still pops up multiple times a day, especially while they’re watching their soap opera or eating or doing something else that doesn’t require a lot of physical activity. But thankfully, Jake’s days get filled with more and more activities as he continues reclaiming his life and sometimes he has four hour stretches where he doesn’t even think about his lines. Having Tom right there is very helpful because Tom can always see when the urges start flaring up and he always helps distract Jake by having sex with him or encouraging him to come down to the gym or choose what to watch on the television.

When the urges get very strong and Tom’s attempts at distracting him make Jake lash out in anger, that’s when Jake sits down and stares at the number-covered papers he’d taken out of his room. Half his brain will be going ‘do the lines, just a couple of lines, do 25 and the total will be a nice, beautiful 5000’ while the other half is going ‘look at what the OCD did, look at how it tortured you, look at the pain and suffering that’s imprinted in the numbers covering these pages’.

At first, Tom tries to help by echoing the voices in Jake’s head, but Jake actually finds that distracting, and not the good kind. He doesn’t want to rely too heavily on Tom when it come to avoiding his OCD urges. Not only is that way too much pressure for Tom, but it’s not good to rely on Tom and not develop his own tools to battle his illness. Plus, it keeps Tom in his caregiver role, which Jake doesn’t want. He wants Tom to be his equal partner and he doesn’t need a caregiver. He needs Tom’s support and love, but he doesn’t want Tom being a protective wall between Jake and his OCD. Jake wants to be his own wall, with Tom’s wall right behind and ready to help Jake if he’s struggling to hold back the onslaught.

There’s also the fact that Jake’s not happy continuing to use sex as a distraction method. While Tom doesn’t seem to mind, it makes Jake feel like Tom’s doing him a favor and that’s not what their sex lives should be about. “I don’t want our sex lives to be something we feel forced to do just to fight my OCD. It worked for a while, but I want to come up with other distractions. Ones that don’t involve cheapening something we love doing.”

Because Tom’s amazing, he’s onboard with that too, but that leaves new problems. If they’re no longer jumping into bed or making out several times a day to push off Jake’s OCD urges, he needs to find new things to do as a distraction. Thankfully, that mission blends very well with his current mission of reclaiming his life. He has a lot of work to do before he’s back to where he was before this whole mess and he happily uses all those tasks to avoid doing stupid lines.

He spends much more time outside, going to cafes and restaurants with Tom and walking through the nearby park. He also buys a binder and plastic sleeves and carefully puts those devastating number-filled pages into each sleeve so they’ll stay safe. Tom’s told him that Jake will probably continue struggling with his OCD for the rest of his life, so he wants all of his weapons to stay in good condition.

Another thing he does when he feels emotionally ready is find Chesa. She’d played almost as big of a role in saving his life as Tom had. He’s very grateful that Tom had saved Chesa from being fired, but even after word of Jake’s return had gotten around and other housekeepers and the front desk staff had started saying hello to him when he sees them, he hasn’t seen Chesa at all. He has no idea if Chesa wants to rekindle their friendship, but at the very least, Jake wants to thank her for what she’d done and offer her the chance to get the top floor back, if she wants it.

One morning when Jake knows Chesa’s working, he systematically goes down each floor one by one and peers into the rooms that the housekeepers are cleaning. Three floors below his own, he sees a housekeeping cart parked in front of an open room door and Jake hurries towards it and peers into the small room. Well, small compared to Jake’s and Tom’s but still a perfectly comfortable size.

Sure enough, Chesa’s in there. She’s busy stuffing a pillow into a new pillow case and Jake smiles as soon as he sees her. He’s really missed her. Knocking on the open door, Jake’s careful to keep his feet outside the room, not wanting Chesa to get into trouble. “Chesa?”

“Yes? I almost finish! Room next door had gum on desk and took long time to clean.”

Jake smiles. “If I were Dean, I’m sure I’d find that report important.”

Her arms freeze around the pillow and she spins around, staring at Jake with wide eyes. “Jake…!”

His smile grows bigger and a rush of excitement fills him, along with a desire to hug her. He’s never hugged Chesa before, but spending so much time hugging Tom has apparently given Jake a desire to hug everybody around him now. “Hi, Chesa.”

Her facial expression shifts between awe, joy and surprise and she drops the pillow on the bed and she rushes over to him, holding out her arms. Without hesitation, Jake opens his arms and Chesa runs into them, squeezing him hard as she shakes, breathing in choppy bursts against Jake’s shirt. Jake hugs her back just as hard and gently rubs his cheek against her dark hair.

“I so worry. So worry,” she mumbles into his shirt. “So scared.”

Jake clenches his jaw. On one hand, it’s nice to know that Chesa legitimately worried about him, but it’s terrible that another person in Jake’s life has been so horribly impacted by his OCD. Like Tom, Chesa’s an innocent bystander who liked being in Jake’s life and ended up being hit by this wave of darkness that had engulfed Jake. Chesa’s shaking and seems overwhelmed with emotions as she clings to Jake, mumbling words in English and Filipino.

“I’m okay now, I promise,” Jake whispers. “I’m okay.”

It takes Chesa a while to calm down, but she eventually pulls back and stares at him, her eyes brimming with tears. Putting her hands on Jake’s face, she says something in Filipino. Smiling, Jake squeezes her hands.

Taking a deep breath, she shakes her head. “Face is still so thin. Still sick?”

Jake’s pretty sure she’s only talking about his physical health and he doesn’t want to worry her about other things, so he shakes his head. “No, I’m fine now. I’m eating and sleeping well and I’m gaining back the weight I lost. In another month, I should be back to a healthy weight.”

Nodding, she presses her lips together. “I worry so much. After Mister Brian and Miss Judy pass, I worry so much.”

“I know. I’m sorry for scaring you so badly. I was having a very hard time, but I’m much better now.”

That brings a smile to her face. “Good.”

“A big part of that has to do with you. You saved my life.”

She’s shaking her head right away. “No, no, I do nothing. Tom go into your room and save you. I do nothing.” She looks angry at that and Jake knows she’s blaming herself for not saving him earlier.

He squeezes her hands harder. “Don’t blame yourself for any of this. I got very sick but that’s not your fault. It’s not really my fault either. It was a difficult situation, but you shouldn’t feel any guilt. You saved my life, Chesa. If you hadn’t broken the privacy protocol and told Tom that I was still in my room, he wouldn’t have come in to save me. I would have died.” When her face crumbles again, he hurries to continue. “But I didn’t. You and Tom saved my life and I’ll always be grateful for that. You both cared enough about me to push past the walls that my illness put up around me and that means everything to me.”

She sighs softly, her eyes still sad.

Determined to put a smile back on her face, Jake decides to change the subject. “So the other reason I came down here was to tell you that you’re welcome to spend time with me and Tom again. If you want to. I’m still staying in Tom’s room, but I’m going to be going back to my room soon. In any case, we’d love to spend time with you again. We’ve both missed you. But only if you’re comfortable doing that.”

A smile lights up her face. “Of course! I miss you too. Tom and you.”

“Good. Oh, and speaking of spending time on the top floor, that was the other reason I wanted to see you. I’m wondering if you’d like the top floor back.”

She immediately looks hesitant, but there’s a flare of interest in her eyes that makes Jake smile. Not even waiting for her answer, he nods. “Okay, I’ll have a quick word with Dean.”

“Oh, not necessary! This floor okay.”

Jake grins. “I know it’s okay, but getting the tips from the top floor again will make you even more okay.”

She still looks conflicted. “No making fuss for me.”

“I won’t make a big deal out of it, I promise. This is something that’s in my power to do and compared to what you did for me, it’s nothing.”

Technically, it won’t be appropriate for Jake to abuse his position of authority to get Chesa the top floor rotation back, but just like when he’d gotten Tom’s ban overturned or banned that jerk who had attacked Tom, Jake doesn’t feel bad about it. Doing all of these things will help the people Jake cares about and that’s what’s most important to him right now.

* * *

The next morning, Jake and Tom are eating breakfast at the table in the dining area and when the knock comes on the door, along with a familiar voice saying “Housekeeping!”.

Grinning, they scramble off their chairs and rush to the door. Jake pulls it open and there’s Chesa, smiling ear to ear.

“Good morning, Chesa! Welcome back to your floor!”

She’s beaming. “I am happy! Very happy! I have my floor and I have my favorite boys back! Very good.”

Tom laughs. “And we’re just as happy to see you.” Reaching out, Tom pulls her in for a hug and because Jake can’t wait, he hugs her too and they envelop Chesa in a big hug while she laughs.

When Jake pulls back, he can’t stop smiling. “Did you have breakfast yet? We can order something else.”

She pulls back from Tom and shakes her head with a smile. “I already eat breakfast, but thank you. I just clean, you finish eating.”

Jake grins. “Only if you catch me up on all the gossip Tom and I have missed over the past 3 months. The other housekeepers don’t have your storytelling skills.”

She laughs and heads back to her cart to grab the door stop sandbag and tosses it against Tom’s door to hold it open. “I tell you everything, don’t worry!”

So while Tom and Jake settle back at the table and resume their breakfast, Chesa works around them and tells them all the new gossip around the hotel—who got fired, who had to deal with a demanding guest—and it’s as fun as it’s always been. What makes it even better is that Chesa comes back to Tom’s room once she’s finished her shift and plays cards with them for a while. The mood is just as relaxed and fun as it’s always been and Jake’s thrilled to have this part of his life back.

* * *

Spending time with Chesa again is great, but there’s one part of their routine that they hadn’t done and it’s annoying Jake. He hadn’t had any delicious desserts to give Chesa, and that’s not right. He wants to start cooking again. He’s tired of eating the food others make for him and his hands are itching to make something delicious from scratch again, especially if he can share his creation with Tom and Chesa.

But that presents a lot of problems. First, Tom’s room doesn’t have a full kitchen, only a microwave, a small fridge and a tiny countertop. His own room has a beautiful kitchen but his room isn’t in any condition to be cooked in. That needs to change.

He’d carefully washed his chef’s knife, but it’s been sitting on Tom’s countertop, lonely and ignored. It’s been lonely and ignored for weeks now and it seems to be calling to Jake, wanting him to start creating food again.

But Jake’s also nervous about it. Whenever he glances at the knife, he doesn’t just get excited about using it to make food, but he thinks about the 6390 cuts that he’d abandoned. The urge to pick up the knife and start carving on Tom’s wall is strong, but Jake can push it back by sternly reminding himself that Tom’s walls aren’t for cutting. Besides, Tom wouldn’t allow Jake to start carving lines into his wall.

But his own walls had been used for cutting and if Jake goes back to his room, he’s worried that being in that environment again will make the urges get stronger again. On the other hand, Jake doesn’t want to stay in Tom’s room for the rest of his life just because his OCD has a lesser chance of overwhelming him here. The longer Jake thinks about it, the angrier he gets. His stupid illness is keeping him from the room he’s lived in and loved for years. He misses his big balcony with the gorgeous double glass doors. He misses having photographs of his parents around him. He misses his clothes, his own bed, his wonderful kitchen. And it’s so stupid that the OCD is threatening to keep him out of his room permanently.

Jake won’t let that happen.

While they’re floating on pool noodles in the pool after doing their laps, Jake stretches out his foot and nudges Tom’s thigh. “Tom?”

Tom’s eyes are closed, his wet hair plastered to his head and he doesn’t raise his head where it’s resting on a green pool noodle. “Hmm?”

“I want to hire people to clean my room.”

That makes Tom raise his head. “Yeah? Are you gonna move back home?”

Jake makes a face. “Unless it’s not alright with you, I’d prefer to take things slower.”

Tom smiles softly and he stretches out his foot and pokes Jake in the side, sending him drifting a little further from Tom. “You know I love having you live with me. I’m happy if you’re living with me or in your own room. All I care about is that you’re comfortable and happy.”

Jake presses his lips together. “I’m not ready to be completely on my own yet. But I want to start cooking again and the best place to do that is my kitchen. It would be a good way for me to get accustomed to being back in my room.”

Tom’s smile gets bigger. “That’s a great idea! I’m really happy you wanna start cooking again.”

“Me too. I have no idea if I still have the same creativity that I did before all this, but…”

That makes Tom laugh and he smacks his hand into the water, sending a splash of water into Jake’s face. “That’s nonsense, Seever. That’s like saying you forgot how to breathe. Like your sex drive, it might not come back right away, but it’ll come. I know it will.”

Smiling at Tom’s encouragement, Jake wipes his face. But there’s one more thing he has to check. “Would you want to come with me when I go back to my kitchen?”

“Of course. Hey, you wanna start by teaching me how to make your chocolate mousse?”

Jake laughs. “I think I finally figured out why you’re doing all this. It was never because you loved me, you just wanted to get my chocolate mousse recipe.”

Tom chuckles, wiggling his eyebrows at him. “Damn, you finally caught on.”

Still laughing, Jake reaches over and yanks Tom’s pool noddle out from underneath his head, sending him underwater with an indignant “Hey!”. Knowing that Tom will retaliate, Jake quickly kicks his feet, trying to get away from him, but Tom surfaces with a sputter and grabs his pool noodle, smacking Jake’s legs with it.

Laughing, Jake rolls off the noodles supporting him and grabs one as he treads water, swinging it at Tom and as usual, that distracts them from thinking about any difficult times waiting in their future.

* * *

Chesa insists over and over that she wants to clean Jake’s room, but he refuses to let her do that. “Seeing the condition of the room will just upset you and the cleaning and repair work required is far beyond what your job duties entail.”

She makes a face, but finally nods. “Okay. But I clean after the company clean. I not trust strangers to make room perfect condition.”

Chuckling and his heart warming at her gesture, Jake nods. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

It takes a team three days to put Jake’s room back to order, including getting rid of the fruit flies and covering up the cuts and stains on his wall. They’d gotten rid of nearly all the food in the room—including his dad’s birthday cake—so Jake puts in a grocery order and asks the cleaning crew to put everything in its place. Jake wants to do everything possible to make his room seem normal again when he goes back into it.

Once they’re done, Chesa goes into Jake’s room on her own and makes sure everything is to her exacting standards. She’s in there for longer than Jake thought she’d be, but eventually she knocks on Tom’s door with a beaming smile and tells him that everything’s ready.

That’s when all of his nerves come flooding in. His room is a dark tomb where Jake had nearly died and where his OCD happily rules. Tom’s standing right behind Jake when Chesa delivers her message and Jake’s glad because feeling the warmth of Tom’s body so close to him helps calm him down and he smiles at Chesa. “Thank you so much.”

“You go see now?” She seems way too excited about this, but her enthusiasm is infectious and Jake finds himself smiling, despite his stomach being in knots.

“Sure. Let me just grab my key.”

While Jake’s rummaging through the stuff on the coffee table for his key, Tom bends down next to him. “You don’t have to go over there right now,” he whispers.

Jake shakes his head. “I want to. I’m scared, but that’s why I need to do this. It’s my room. I love that room and everything in it and I hate that I’m scared of it. The OCD is trying to intimate me and I won’t let it win.”

With his mind made up and his key in his hand, he walks out of Tom’s room.

Chesa’s already waiting by his door, smiling and jittery. “You go in and see beautiful room.”

Sliding his key into the slot with a shaking hand, Jake braces himself. When he pushes open the door, his jaw is clenched and he reaches back to grab Tom’s hand and squeeze it hard; stepping into his room the same way he’d gone in a few days before.

But the difference between what his room had been like then versus now is immediately obvious when Jake sees that the hallway is flooded sunshine and the smell of the orange cleaning product that the housekeeping staff use reaches him. Relief floods him and he eagerly steps inside and walks down the hallway. When he reaches the main area of the hotel room, he stares around in amazement.

Everything’s back to where it should be. The entire room is bright, clean and beautiful. His table and chairs are exactly where they should be and the big balcony doors are open, letting in sunshine and a warm breeze and his couch has been set back the right way. Jake’s breath catches at how beautiful it all looks.

Tom’s staring around in amazement too. “Wow. It looks fantastic, doesn’t it? The crew and Chesa did an amazing job, didn’t they?”

His earlier nerves disappear and Jake smiles. “It’s back to being my home,” he whispers, relieved and so grateful to the people who had worked hard to give him this. “This isn’t the same place where the OCD controlled me. It’s my home again.”

He’s about to release Tom’s hand, when he remembers that the former state of his room had been even more difficult for Tom to deal with than for him. Glancing at him, Jake searches his face for any sign of distress. Tom seems relaxed and there’s a small smile on his face as he looks around. But Jake still wants to check. “How are you feeling?”

Tom grins. “This is amazing. I never thought I’d wanna be back in here, but you’re right—it’s back to being your home. This is the same place I used to love being in.”

Squeezing Tom’s hand, Jake pulls his hand up and kisses it before gently releasing it. “Come on. I want to make sure there aren’t any unwelcome guests still lingering in my bedroom.”

His bedroom is sparkling clean and the bed has been neatly made, the same way that Chesa makes every other bed in the hotel. The white bedspread is spotless without a single wrinkle on it. His favorite parts around the room are the touches that remind Jake that this is really his home. His clothes are hanging in the closet, all freshly washed and ironed. His favorite slippers are sticking out from under the bed. That framed photo of a young Jake with his mom and dad is sitting on his bedside table and other pictures of his parents and grandparents are on the wall. Seeing their smiling faces adds to Jake’s joy at being back home. “I’ve missed my photos.”

Tom wraps his arms around him and kisses his neck. “I know you did.”

It’s wonderful to wander around his room and see all the photos of his parents again and when he gets to the living room, he’s so happy to see the framed photo of his parents on the coffee table that he almost forgets that this room is where most of his suffering had taken place. While sitting on the couch with Tom and alternating looking between the photo in his hands and the beautiful scenery outside, it’s easy to forget what happened just a few feet away from him. This is where Jake sat a million times, watching television, planning desserts, chatting with his parents, cuddling—or doing things that required less clothes—with Tom.

But sadly, being back on the couch doesn’t seem to be distracting Tom the same way. He keeps staring at the far wall, and that brings everything rushing back.

Looking over, Jake joins Tom in staring at the wall. It’s now back to being a spotless white. There aren’t any cuts to be seen. But a part of Jake feels weird to know that the thousands of cuts he’d made are still hiding on that wall, behind layers of fresh paste and paint. It’s almost creepy. Like the inside of the room has been turned back into this sunny, happy place but the OCD is still a dark cloak, hovering around the edge and trying to get in. That lowers his mood immediately and Jake clenches his jaw.

Tom must sense his mood because he gently squeezes Jake’s thigh. “Whenever you wanna go, we can go. But if you wanna push through, I’ll help you.”

Jake can’t tear his eyes off the wall. “The cuts…they’re hiding behind the new paint. Like they’re claws waiting to tear through and grab hold of me again.”

Sighing softly, Tom grabs Jake’s hand tightly. “I think that’s a dangerous way to think about it. You’re giving the OCD too much power.”

Tom’s right. Thinking of the OCD as this strong, evil force that’s trying to break into his wonderful room isn’t a good way of dealing with it. It’s scaring Jake and making him want to run out of his room and that’s not how he wants things to be.

Releasing Tom’s hand, Jake walks over to the wall and stares at the fresh paint. This paint isn’t covering up a powerful monster. It’s covering up a bunch of nonsense. That’s what the OCD is: nonsense. It’s a ridiculous clown, stomping its feet and demanding to be let back in. But Jake won’t let it. This is his room and his OCD has no right to be in it. Jake won’t fear that clown coming in because he’s in control.

The whole thing sounds a bit silly and Jake doesn’t feel comfortable sharing this silliness with Tom, but Jake likes that the clown idea makes his fears fade away again. Glancing at Tom, he smiles. “I think I came up with something better. It’s quite silly, but I think it’ll work.”

“As long as you feel in control, it doesn’t matter what you’re thinking.”

Gently putting his hands on the smooth white walls, Jake lightly runs his fingers down the smooth surface. “It does help. These walls are so beautifully smooth and they’re going to stay that way because I’m in control of what happens in my room.”

Tom appears next to him and wraps his arms around Jake’s chest, kissing the side of his head and smiling. “Yes, you are.”

Reaching up, Jake squeezes Tom’s arms and leans back against him. “Well, you can be in control when you’re in my room too. It’s just the OCD that has no say over anything in here.”

That makes Tom laugh against his temple. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

* * *

When they leave the living room and head into the kitchen, some of Jake’s nerves start again. This is where the whole madness had begun and he’s also worried about how cooking will go. But when he gets into the kitchen and sees a random vase of flowers on his countertop, all of those worries grind to a halt. “What’s this?”

They’re a bunch of yellow Daffodils that have hilariously been put into one of Jake’s glass pitchers. There’s a piece of paper stuck between the flowers and Jake gently pulls it out. As soon as he unfolds it, he can tell it’s a piece of hotel stationary from the notepad that always sits by the phone in the bedroom, but he still doesn’t put the pieces together until he reads the message.

_‘Welcome back home Jake! I am very happy you are okay. Chesa.’_

“Who are they from?” Tom asks, leaning over his shoulder.

Jake’s throat tightens with emotion and all he can do is hand the note to Tom. He can’t believe Chesa had gone out of her way to buy him these pretty flowers and make him a card.

“Oh, that wonderful woman. How sweet,” Tom mumbles, chuckling softly.

Jake still can’t say anything, but his feet can. Walking to his front door, he opens it and sees Chesa leaning against the opposite wall, staring at her phone.

She glances up and when she sees Jake’s shaky smile and how he’s struggling not to cry from emotion, she grins. “You see present?”

Jake nods, his throat too tight to talk and he steps across the hallway and pulls her into a tight hug. “Thank you.”

She pats his back. “You are welcome. I want to do something nice for welcome home.”

Not knowing what else to say, Jake pulls back and struggles to hold his tears in. There’s nothing he can do or give Chesa that would have the same sentimental value, but he can do his best. He has no idea how cooking in his kitchen will go so he wants to keep things private between him and Tom, just in case Jake ends up struggling. That would just upset Chesa and Jake wouldn’t feel comfortable. But there’s one part that he does want to share with her. “I’m going to try making my chocolate mousse. I don’t know if things will go well, but I’d love to give you some, if things work out. Only if you’d like some, of course.”

A bright smile lights up her face. “Of course! I never say no to your amazing desserts. I go eat lunch and talk with girls and you call cafeteria if ready or not.”

Jake smiles, happy that Chesa isn’t upset at not joining him in the kitchen just yet, but he loves the idea of giving Chesa some of his desserts again. That’ll be another major step forward in his recovery. “Thank you. I’ll call you.”

“Okay.” She reaches up and gently pats his cheek. “You go slow and stop if not comfortable. Not push for me.”

“I won’t.”

She raises her eyebrow, looking doubtful. “Promise?”

Jake chuckles. “Yes, I promise. Tom won’t let me push myself anyway.”

“Good. You listen to Tom and me. We are very smart people.”

Laughing, Jake grabs her hand and squeezes it. “Yes, you are.”

She sighs softly, looking a bit worried. “Good luck and if you need extra things, you call cafeteria or tell Dean call me.”

He can’t believe he has such wonderful people in his life. Not only did they save his life when they didn’t have to, but they’re helping him put the broken pieces of his life back together too. It’s amazing. “I will.”


	31. Chapter 31

To Tom’s delight, being back in Jake’s room when it’s been returned to its former glory is a lot easier than he thought it would be, both for Jake and for himself. It’s almost possible to pretend that the last three months haven’t happened. Jake seems fine as he pulls out mixing bowls, measuring cups and a sauce pan from his cupboards, but he freezes when his hand touches the fridge.

Tom’s leaning against the kitchen counter and he sees Jake’s hesitation. Stepping up behind Jake, he wraps his arms around him. “Is that fear still there?”

Jake draws in a shaky breath, his hand clutching the fridge handle. “Yes. I know the cake isn’t in there and I don’t have to protect anything that’s in the fridge but that silly fear is still there.”

Nuzzling Jake’s hair, Tom’s heart aches at his pain. Despite all physical evidence of Jake’s trauma having been removed from the fridge, the emotions can’t be throw out or wiped away as easily. He waits, wanting Jake to tell him how he wants to proceed.

Jake’s hand is twitching on the handle. “I think if I just do it and get used to opening and closing the fridge again, that feeling will fade. Not doing my lines has gotten easier with practice.”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

Taking a deep breath, Jake yanks the door open and cold air flows around them as they stand, staring into the sparkling clean fridge, filled with the brand new groceries that Jake had ordered. There’s a smile on Jake’s face. “They put things in a different order than I usually have them, but I think that’s good. It’s given the fridge a new start and that’ll help me.”

Smiling, Tom kisses Jake’s neck. “I’m proud of you. I know this is really hard.”

Jake squeezes one of Tom’s arms around his chest. “I couldn’t do any of this without you, you know that, right?”

“You’re not giving yourself enough credit.”

That makes Jake snort. “The same goes for you.” His voice is still shaky and he’s staring into the fridge as if thoughts of his dad’s birthday cake are still distracting him.

“What do we need to make the chocolate mousse?” Tom asks quietly. “I’m guessing chocolate?”

That makes Jake laugh and he grabs a box of semi-sweet chocolate baking squares and a box of bittersweet chocolate off the shelf. Tom takes them from him and tosses them on the counter.

“We need butter and eggs too and then we’ll prepare the chocolate first,” Jake says, taking the butter and a carton of eggs out and handing them to Tom. “It needs to cool so we’ll have plenty of time to whip the egg whites and cream.”

“Sounds good.”

After closing the fridge, Jake looks at the counter and his eyes seem brighter now that he’s focused on the recipe. That makes Tom smile and he steps up next to Jake. “Can I help or should I just write things down?”

“I’ll type up the recipe for you. You can help if you want or just observe.”

Tom grins. “You sure you wanna let me touch things in your kitchen?”

Jake laughs and grabs Tom around the waist and kisses him hard, his eyes sparkling. “Having you in my kitchen is an honor. Just don’t make a mess, please. Keeping an organized workspace is essential.”

Tom nods, nudging his nose against Jake’s. “Yes, Chef.”

Jake’s eyes brighten even more at that and Tom can practically see his confidence fully returning. Giving Tom a soft kiss, Jake pulls back and turns to the counter. “Alright, so you’re going to get the double boiler going. Fill the sauce pan with 2 inches of water. We’re going to put the glass mixing bowl into it to melt the chocolate and make the chocolate mixture. The water needs to be exactly 2 inches. If you put more water, it’ll touch the bottom of the bowl while boiling and burn the chocolate; if you put too little, it’ll boil away and damage the saucepan.” Pulling open a drawer, Jake rummages around in it. “Let me get you a ruler so you can measure.”

It’s on the tip of Tom’s tongue to say that it doesn’t really matter if he has slightly more or slightly less water in there; it doesn’t have to be exactly 2 inches and he’s pretty sure it’ll still meet the necessary cooking standards. But it wouldn’t meet Jake’s standards.

The whole thing gives Tom a weird feeling in his gut. The last time he’d seen a ruler in Jake’s hands, it had been for doing his endless lines. Before that, it had been to cut lines on a wall. The idea of Jake having a ruler in his hand again unsettles him.

Jake doesn’t seem bothered by any of this. Having a ruler in his hand is a normal part of his cooking routine, as is measuring every tiny damn thing, whether it’s necessary or not.

It reminds Tom that Jake’s OCD hadn’t just started three months ago. It may have spiraled out of control due to his grief, but the starting blocks have been part of Jake for a long time. All the unnecessary and overly precise measuring that Jake does when he cooks is part of his OCD. Having an extra 1/4 inch of water in the saucepan won’t make the boiling water touch the glass bowl, but Jake needs it to be 2 inches exactly because his OCD is telling him that’s the way it has to be.

As Tom fills the saucepan with water, he debates whether to mention this to Jake, but then decides not to. Jake might get defensive and that would ruin this happy afternoon. Besides, Jake’s already dealing with a lot today, so Tom decides to keep his mouth shut for now.

“Oh, here it is!” Jake triumphantly pulls the ruler out of the drawer.

Tom puts the saucepan with a few inches of water onto the counter and Jake sticks the ruler in, frowning as he looks at it. “It needs another 7/16 inches. Here, I’ll show you how to get it perfect.”

Grabbing a measuring cup, Jake fills it with a tiny bit of water and carefully adds a few drops before measuring again as Tom stands next to him and struggles to keep the smile on his face.

“Just a little more…” Jake adds a tiny amount of water into the saucepan and measures again. “Oh, damn. It’s 1/8 too much.”

Jesus Christ. “Should I dump it out?” Tom asks, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“No, no! That’s unnecessary.” Pulling a set of measuring spoons out of another drawer, Jake dips the smallest spoon into the water and takes out the equivalent of a few drops of water before shaking them out in the sink. “Okay, let me measure again. I have to wait for the water to settle first so the measurement will be precise.”

Tom can almost hear Jake’s OCD laughing at both of them; especially at Jake’s mindless obedience and it sets his teeth on edge. It’s a struggle to stay calm, but Tom doesn’t want to derail Jake’s first time being back in his room. “Okay.”

Once the water has stopped gently sloshing around in the saucepan, Jake measures again and finally smiles. “Perfect! 2 inches. Alright, put this on the stove on high and wait for it to boil. I’ll separate the eggs.”

To Tom’s relief, the rest of the chocolate mousse preparation goes smoothly and it’s a joy to see a smile on Jake’s face as he settles into the motions of being in the kitchen again. It’s fascinating to watch Jake easily separating the egg yolks from egg whites and moving around the kitchen confidently. When Jake asks Tom to measure out 3 tablespoons of coffee to add into it, Tom makes a face and asks if they really need to add coffee. He likes coffee but he loves the rich chocolate taste and doesn’t want it tasting like coffee.

Jake laughs. “Don’t worry. I always add the coffee, but you can’t ever taste it, can you?”

Tom raises his eyebrows. “Really? No, I’ve never noticed.”

“The coffee helps bring out the chocolate taste and makes it richer. It serves the same purpose as small amounts of salt.”

Hearing Jake’s enthusiasm makes Tom smile and he’s really enjoying seeing Jake in his element again and teaching Tom just a tiny bit of the knowledge he’s accrued over twenty years of baking. Tom’s not accustomed to being in the student role when it comes to Jake and he’s really enjoying it.

While Tom’s stirring the melting chocolate mixture in the glass bowl suspended over the gently boiling water, Tom smiles. “You remember when we talked about how you wouldn’t have the patience to teach me things and you wouldn’t enjoy it?”

Jake grins as he stares into the stand-mixer that’s currently whipping the heavy cream into stiff peaks. “Yes, I remember. You told me that I probably would enjoy it because you aren’t a stranger.” Glancing at Tom sideways, Jake’s smile widens. “And you were right. I’m really enjoying this.”

Tom’s grin mirrors his and he gently hip-checks Jake as he’s stirring, making Jake laugh.

The whole thing goes very well. Each time Jake has to go back to the fridge, his movements become more confident and he keeps glowing. Making things even better is that Jake’s hands don’t appear to hurting. He’s moving as smoothly as he used to and it’s such a joy to watch Jake’s amazing and talented hands doing complex tasks with such ease. Just to check, Tom asks him if his hands are sore when Jake’s teaching Tom how to fold the beaten egg whites into the chocolate mixture, but Jake shakes his head with a smile.

“No, they’re fine. I feel great.” Jake is looking at him with a soft smile before he slides the bowl over to Tom. “Okay, your turn. You’re going to fold half the whipped cream into the mixture, just like I did. Do big folds and don’t stir or you’ll knock all the air out that we’ve incorporated and it’ll turn into pudding once it sets in the fridge.”

Pulling the bowl closer to him, Tom grabs the bowl of whipped cream and the spatula and carefully spoons out half of it into the chocolate mousse. “Yes, Chef.”

That never fails to make Jake’s grin brighten, but his smile quickly fades as he focuses on Tom’s hand movements as he tries to copy what Jake’s amazing hands had done so effortlessly. Jake offers small corrections when Tom isn’t folding the way Jake wants him to but he lets Tom fold in the rest of the beaten egg whites and cream, so Tom thinks he’s doing okay.

Jake’s OCD does interrupt their happy afternoon when it comes to plating once the mousse has solidified in the fridge for an hour. Although Tom would happily eat the chocolate mousse right out of the bowl it’s in, Jake had stared at him as if he’d suggested licking it off the floor, so Tom had dutifully gone to find the little glass bowls that Jake usually serves his mousse in.

While spooning the mousse into the bowls, Jake carefully smooths both surfaces until they’re completely flat before measuring the thickness of the mousse on the outside of the glass bowl. They’re not exactly the same, so Tom has to wait while Jake uses a small spoon to add tiny amounts of mousse to the smaller portion and smooths out each new layer and re-measures until it’s perfect.

Even if Jake doesn’t realize it, he’s once again doing the OCD’s bidding. He’s doing a task that nobody else cares about and doesn’t matter in the greater scheme of things. Nothing would happen to Tom if his bowl of mousse has 1/16 inch less mousse or more mousse than Jake’s. He wouldn’t even care if it wasn’t completely smooth. He can’t imagine that Jake thinks that Tom would care or that something bad would happen if the two bowls had slightly different amounts of mousse. But once more, Jake isn’t even questioning the OCD. He hasn’t noticed that it’s stealing his time and effort, giving him extra work that serves no real purpose and he also hasn’t noticed that he’s been forcing Tom to wait for his mousse. While that may not be biggest deal in the world, Tom hates that once again, Jake’s OCD is taking the highest priority in Jake’s life and Jake’s not even aware of it.

But on the bright side, the mousse is really delicious. Jake tops them off with a mound of perfectly sized whipped cream and shaves a bit of a chocolate square on top and they sit at the counter and eat the amazing dessert.

They’re both quiet as they enjoy the mousse and Tom makes a happy sound, thrilled to have that familiar rich, chocolate taste back. “Wow, this is amazing.”

Jake grins. “It’s not that hard to make, is it?”

“No, it was pretty easy. Thanks for teaching me.”

“You’re welcome.” Jake eats another spoonful, then makes a noise and points his spoon at Tom. “I have to call Chesa after we’re done our bowls. She’s going to come and eat some too.”

Tom grins. “I know she’s really excited about that. I don’t think she’s missed your mousse as much as I have, but she hasn’t had it in a while either.”

Jake frowns. “You ate in the restaurant while I was sick, didn’t you?”

“Oh, yeah.” Tom tries not dwelling on those sad memories when he’d noticed that the restaurant’s dessert options were always re-runs, reminding Tom that Jake wasn’t in the kitchen. Now, those memories are even worse because Tom know that while he’d been eating in the restaurant, missing Jake and his desserts, Jake had been living in hell a dozen floors above him.

Jake’s still frowning. “Didn’t Liying put chocolate mousse desserts on the menu? Or did she change the recipe?”

Tom decides not to dwell on those sad memories. They’ve moved forward and today was another major victory. The war is far from over, but Tom’s calling today a win. “No, she used your recipe, but I could tell you hadn’t done the plating. I just made me a little sad.”

That makes Jake’s frown deepen and he looks a bit sad as he stares down into his bowl. “Oh.”

Tom gently kicks Jake’s feet. “Turn that frown upside down, Seever. This is a time for smiling, not frowning. You did great for your first day back in the kitchen and your first day being back in your room. I feel great being here too and I got to help make my favorite mousse. It’s been a really great day.”

That brings Jake’s smile back and he digs another spoonful out of his bowl. “That’s true.”

Seeing that smile makes Tom’s heart light up and he can’t help but get off his chair, swing around the table and lift Jake’s chin so he can kiss him, both of them tasting like delicious chocolate mousse. Jake moans happily and melts into the kiss, tangling his hands in Tom’s hair.

“Oh, this is even better than the mousse,” Jake whispers between kisses.

Tom laughs against Jake’s lips. “Personally, I think they’re tied. But that’s just my opinion.”

That comment makes Jake pull back, narrowing his eyes as he smirks at Tom. “Oh, you think so, huh?”

“Oh, I do.”

Jake gives him a shove. “Go sit down and get ready because I’m about to prove to you that kissing me is much, _much_ better than my chocolate mousse.”

Laughing, Tom goes back to his chair and sits down, watching Jake sauntering after him and sliding onto his lap. Wrapping his arms around Jake’s waist, Tom grins at him. “But just to make sure I’m comparing things properly, I think you should feed me a spoonful of mousse every few kisses.”

Chuckling, Jake grabs Tom’s bowl off the table and prepares a spoon. “I love how your brain works, Tom Carlson.”

* * *

After having the chocolate mousse making go so well, Jake is very excited to get back to his kitchen. When he’d been measuring and mixing the ingredients together, his heart had lit up with joy. That’s how he’s always felt while cooking, so it’s absolutely fantastic that none of his difficulties had robbed him of that feeling.

He also really loved being back in his room. Being surrounded by his things and the familiar furniture had made him feel right at home. Living in Tom’s room is a joy too, but for different reasons. Jake thought he’d settled into living at Tom’s, but after being back in his room once it had been returned to its former glory, he felt more at home there than he ever did at Tom’s.

It’s a bit of a difficult issue. Jake wants to go home, but he also loves sharing a bed with Tom and being around him constantly. But Tom loves his own home too. In any case, Jake doesn’t have to make any decisions about that now. Going back home permanently would be a huge shift and Jake doesn’t want to make any drastic changes. As Tom had shown him over and over again during his recovery, moving slowly is the best way forward.

But Jake still wants to spend more time in his room and he really wants to get back into his kitchen, and the perfect opportunity presents itself a few days later.

Tom’s chatting on his phone with one of his friends and Jake’s half-listening to the conversation as he scrolls through the news on his phone where he’s sprawled on Tom’s chest as they lie on the couch. Tom’s friend, Mark, is one of those very loud people and Jake ends up overhearing his end of the conversation despite not purposefully eavesdropping.

Mark is asking Tom if he wants to go out for coffee, but Tom immediately turns him down, claiming that he’s ‘too busy’. That makes Jake frown and he puts his phone down on Tom’s chest and raises his head.

Tom glances down and see his frown and mouths “Are you okay?” at him.

“Can you put Mark on hold for a minute?” Jake whispers.

Nodding, Tom focuses back on his phone. “Mark? Can you hold on a sec? I just gotta do something, hang on.” Pressing buttons on his phone, Tom lowers his phone and raises an eyebrow at Jake. “What’s up?”

“If you don’t want to have coffee with Mark, then that’s fine. But if you’re just saying no because you don’t want to leave me alone for a few hours, then that’s unnecessary.”

Tom frowns at him, looking worried. Jake knows he’s concerned that he might start doing lines if Tom’s not there, but he’s confident that he’ll be alright. While thinking about doing his lines—and getting that total down to a nice 5000—is still incredibly appealing, Jake’s sure he can distract himself sufficiently. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Are you sure? I can have coffee with Mark whenever. It doesn’t have to be today.”

Jake smiles, touched by Tom’s concern. “I’m sure. I’ll be fine and I want you to spend time with your other friends.”

Taking a deep breath, Tom stares at him for another moment, giving Jake time to change his mind. But when he doesn’t, Tom nods and smiles. “Okay.” Picking up his phone, he taps a button it and holds it to his ear. “Mark? I really do wanna see you so I can move stuff around if we wanna have that coffee date.”

From Mark’s enthusiastic response and Tom’s smile, Jake knows he’d made the right decision. It’ll be good for Jake to practice being on his own again and making sure Tom doesn’t feel forced to spend every minute by Jake’s side is also important.

Once Tom’s off the phone, he wraps his arms around Jake and rubs his back. “So I’ll leave in about an hour. You can still change your mind and I won’t be upset.”

Jake smiles softly and kisses his chest through his shirt. “I know but I won’t. It’ll be good for me to be on my own.”

“You think the OCD won’t bother you?”

“I’m pretty sure it will, but I feel confident that I can push it back. In any case, I’d like to try. I want us to be equals and you babysitting me because I can’t handle being on my own without falling apart doesn’t sit right with me.”

That makes Tom smile. “Okay. What are you gonna do while I’m out?”

Jake knows exactly what he’s going to do. “I’m going to cook you dinner and dessert.”

That makes Tom’s smile slide off his face, but Jake pushes himself up and launches into reassuring Tom why this is a good idea. “I did very well being in my room when we were making chocolate mousse, didn’t I?”

Tom looks worried. “Yes, but don’t you think that’s moving too fast?”

Jake shakes his head. “I don’t. I truly don’t. I hated being in my room when it was a dark and decaying pit because the evidence of what I went through was everywhere. But everything in the room is back to the way it was and I felt calm when we were there.”

“I still…I’m worried that it’ll be too much for you.”

Jake smiles softly, Tom’s fears giving him even more determination to do it. “I’m not being naive. I know it’ll probably be difficult, but I need to do this. I need to prove to myself that I can fight my OCD on my own. Staying focused on making you dinner and dessert will be a perfect distraction.”

Tom sighs, his eyes still looking worried. But then he nods. “Okay. If you think you’re ready, then okay. But…”

“I won’t lock the door with the deadbolt and I’ll leave you my spare key. I’ll even text you every half hour, if you want.”

His jaw shifting, Tom doesn’t look reassured by that. Jake can understand why. After his fight with Tom after that horrible service, Jake hadn’t intended to completely isolate himself from the world. But being left on his own with only his chaotic thoughts for company had quickly made things spiral out of control. But things are different now.

Jake grabs Tom’s hands and squeezes them gently. “I know the warning signs now. I can recognize my OCD and I have tools to help fight it. You taught how to do all that.”

Tom still looks hesitant about the whole thing, but he finally sighs. “This scares the shit out of me, but I think that’s why you need to do it. I know you’re stronger than the OCD and I hate that it’s scaring me so much.”

Grinning, Jake leans over Tom and kisses him. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

Jake’s feeling pretty confident about everything, but it’s clear that Tom is still very worried. Deciding to use one of main tools that Tom had taught him, Jake sits up and rubs Tom’s chest as he slides his legs underneath Tom’s. “So what would you like for dinner?”

That makes Tom smile. “Make whatever you want. I’ll just be happy eating something you cooked.”

Grinning, Jake leans back and starts going over options in his head. Following the advice the nurse at the hospital had given Tom, Jake still hasn’t added heavier meats back into his diet but he’s been regularly eating chicken and fish and that’s been going fine. “How about chicken?”

“Sure.”

“What vegetables would you like with it? Carrots? Seasonal things?”

Tom’s smile widens and he relaxes. “Asparagus.”

“Great choice. I think I’ll panfry the chicken. That’ll make the skin nice and crispy.”

Making a happy sound, Tom grins, all traces of worry having faded from his face. “You know I love crispy chicken skin.”

Jake laughs, rubbing his chest. “Yes, I know. We’re exercising enough these days so we can indulge a bit. For the sauce, I think I’ll make morel mushroom sauce. I have a big bag of dried morels in the pantry and those will taste great after I rehydrate them.”

“What’s for dessert?”

That makes Jake laugh again and he pokes Tom in the stomach. “How did I know you were going to ask about that, huh? Very predictable.”

“You’re not answering the question, Seever.”

Smiling down at him, Jake raises an eyebrow. “Would you like it to be a surprise?”

Tom’s eyes light up. “Sure!”

“Do you want something chocolate or something fruity?”

Pursing his lips while he thinks about, Tom finally sighs. “That’s a tough choice. But we had plenty of chocolate when we ate all that mousse with Chesa. I think I’d like something fruity.”

Nodding, Jake smiles. “Alright.”

* * *

As per Jake’s request, Tom leaves for his coffee date with Mark before Jake heads over to his room. He didn’t want Tom lingering and having all those fears return. He’d shoved Tom out the door with a kiss and a promise to text him every half an hour and not to come back for at least two hours.

Once Tom’s gone, a little hint of fear is coiling in his stomach, but he ignores it and gets ready. This will be a huge test for him and he wants to do his absolute best. If things go very badly, Jake will be annoyed with himself for months and Tom won’t leave his side for the next decade. Getting this right is essential for both of them. To prepare himself, he grabs the binder with his cutting total pages and he also grabs the pad of paper that has his line drawing total on it. His hand shakes as he pulls it out of the drawer where Tom had stuffed it a few weeks ago and he stares at the ‘5025’ staring up at him, waiting. It’s been sitting here, being an annoying temptation ever since that crazy night when Jake had spent hours drawing lines on the pad. The number still calls to Jake and a little bit of excitement is blending with that fear in his gut.

Tom’s not here. Jake could easily get his total down to 5000. He could even tear up the sheet once he’s done so Tom would never know…

Clenching his jaw, he glares at the numbers and their seductive whispers. _He’d_ know that he did the numbers. He’d know and he’d hate himself for giving in. He wants to use the next two hours to have fun in the kitchen and make himself and Tom delicious food. There’s no way he’s going to let his stupid OCD convince him to spend the next two hours drawing lines on a damn piece of paper.

His hand’s shaking as it clutches the pad of paper and he forces himself to tear his eyes off the ‘5025’ total and flip open the binder with the plastic covered numbered pages. He goes right to the last page where his writing had gotten shaky due to how weak he’d been. There’s a streak of blood smeared across the page. This is what will happen if he gives in again and he’s never going back to that. He won’t waste his life as a slave to his stupid OCD, or worse—allow it to kill him.

“No,” he says at the papers. “I’m not giving in to you. You made me suffer, you made Tom suffer and you nearly killed me. I’m not doing it.”

Ignoring that desperation and excitement that’s still tingling in his stomach, he flips the binder closed and heads to his room, walking with determination.

Once he’s in his room, he goes into the kitchen to get started. He puts the pad of paper and the binder right on the counter. He doesn’t want to cheat by hiding them away. The only way he’ll get better at beating this thing is to confront it head on. Spending his life hiding from a pad of paper is ridiculous and Jake refuses to let the OCD do that to him. But his hands are still shaking and his heart’s racing, that desire to grab his ruler and draw lines still burning intensely within him. He’ll need reinforcements.

Going into the living room, he picks up the framed photo of his parents that’s sitting on the coffee table and brings that to the kitchen counter and places it right next to the pad and binder. His parents are smiling encouragingly at him and Jake knows their presence will help him stay on track. He debates if he needs anything and that’s when he realizes he’s wasting precious cooking time.

Glancing at his wrist out of habit, he’s surprised to find his wrist naked. Then he rolls his eyes at his surprise. He hasn’t worn Tom’s watch in ages and he’s really missed wearing a watch. He remembers his own watch had been put on his bedside table—he has no idea where the cleaning staff had found it—but the moment he considers putting it on, doubts begin to creep in. He’d stopped wearing Tom’s watch because that stupid urge to do his lines always got stronger when he hit those silly two hour deadlines. It had been a good decision at the time, but Jake misses wearing a watch and he doesn’t like not doing it purely because the OCD might take advantage of it. Not wearing a watch feels like admitting defeat and Jake hates that.

His mind made up, he goes into his bedroom, but as he’s reaching for his watch, his eyes land on the photo of his parents and a young Jake on his bedside table. His mom’s wearing a pair of her expensive sunglasses and his dad’s wearing one of his watches and the sun is glinting off the gold.

Two memories immediately hit Jake. First—his dad’s birthday cake. Jake had worked so hard on that birthday cake and his dad never even got to see it. His dad will never celebrate another birthday. He’ll never sit on Jake’s couch, drinking wine with his mom and Jake as they chat about different things. He’ll never—

Stop. Stop, stop, stop!

His throat is getting tight and Jake’s moments from bursting into tears and he refuses to have this whole afternoon get derailed by his grief. Drawing in a shaky breath, Jake pushes the memory of the birthday cake out of his head and focuses on the second memory.

One of his dad’s watches is in his drawer. Along with one of his mom’s sunglasses. He’s not sure how they got there and he doesn’t remember putting them in there, but he knows they’re there. Walking to the chest of drawers, he pulls open the drawer where he keeps his tie clips and various other things…and there they are. Neatly lined up next to Jake’s other things. His mom’s sunglasses and his dad’s watch.

Smiling, Jake takes out his mom’s sunglasses and stares at them. He can’t count how many times he’d seen her wearing these. Seeing them makes him a little sad, but he puts them back down and picks up his dad’s watch. Without hesitation, he puts the watch on, smiling as he does it. This is perfect. Wearing his dad’s watch will give him strength and Jake’s confident that his OCD won’t be able to manipulate his dad’s watch as easily as it had Tom’s watch. That sounds a little silly, but Jake’s filled with a new boost of confidence as he looks at the beautiful and heavy watch wrapped around his wrist.

Now he’s ready.

But as he takes a step towards the door, he pauses. If he’s going to take this seriously and give it his absolute best shot, he needs to be physically ready as well as emotionally ready. “That means dressing properly,” he mumbles.

Going to his closet, he opens the door and stares at the crisp, white chef’s jackets hanging in a row. He doesn’t normally wear his chef’s jacket while cooking at home, but he thinks this is important. The whole point of this is to reclaim his life and he might not be currently working as a chef, but he still _is_ a chef and he has the right to wear a chef’s jacket.

Taking one of them out of the closet, he pulls it on and he starts to smile as soon as he’s buttoning it up, loving how familiar the process feels. Once he’s buttoned it up and smoothed every wrinkle out of it, he stares down at himself, very pleased with what he’s seeing.

His dad’s gold watch is shining on his wrist, giving him strength, and he’s wearing a chef’s jacket that has his last name embroidered on the left side. He spent years working hard to earn the right to wear this jacket and he won’t let his OCD destroy any of that. “Now, I’m ready,” he tells himself—and his OCD—and spins on his heel and strides into his kitchen.

Glancing at his parents photograph, he returns their smiles and takes a moment to glare at the pad of paper that’s sitting right next to them, urging him to spend the next two hours drawing lines. Tom won’t ever know. Jake can destroy the evidence. He can get his total down to 5000 and—

“Stop. It,” he hisses at himself as he glares at the pad of paper and ignores that burst of excitement glowing in his chest. “I’m not going to destroy my hands, my life and Tom’s life again. I’m going to use my hands for something wonderful instead of something stupid.”

Clenching his jaw, Jake washes his hands and pushes all thoughts of the lines out of his head as he mentally goes over what order he’ll need to do things in. He’ll start with the pastry cream. That can chill in the fridge while he’s prepping the macarons. While the macaron batter is drying before going into the oven, he can do the chicken and the morel mushroom sauce.

After drying his hands, he sends a quick text to Tom, telling him he’s fine and things are going well. Then he opens the cupboard housing his baking equipment and pulls out the bowls, measuring spoons and other things he needs. Thankfully, taking the milk, eggs and other ingredients out of the fridge doesn’t give him any trouble and as soon as he’s whisking the milk and sugar together in a sauce pan and bringing it to a boil, he starts to relax. The motions feel so familiar and it’s such a joy to be cooking again.

Glancing at his parents, he grins at them. “I can do this.”

Making the pastry cream goes well and once that’s chilling in the fridge, he makes the raspberry macaron batter. Before piping the macaron batter onto a parchment covered baking sheet, Jake quickly pulls out one of his wonderful rulers and makes light markings on the parchment paper so every single macaron will be exactly the same size. It’s a process he’s done a million times and he finishes it quickly. It feels so nice to be using his pencil and ruler to be making little marks, but these are useful marks. They’re not stupid lines on a pad of paper. These pencil marks have a specific purpose and that makes Jake smile.

Piping the maracon batter onto the baking sheet is tricky and Jake has to move slowly so he doesn’t go over or under his marks, but he only ends up having to scrape up and redo five of them, which he considers good. It’s his first full day back in the kitchen and he hasn’t made macarons in over half a year, so that ratio is acceptable.

Once the macarons are drying on the sheet, Jake prepares to tackle dinner. After taking out a whole chicken from the fridge, he puts it on a cutting board and wraps his hand around the handle of his favorite chef knife, ready to pull it out of the block.

But as soon as his fingers wrap around it, fear clenches his gut and his breath catches. Holding the knife reminds him of being cold, hungry and in pain. The last time he’d used this knife for something, he’d been carving lines into his wall. He’d been alone and miserable. His hands had hurt, he’d been hungry and cold all the time. He’d—

“Stop it,” he whispers to himself. “You’re fine. You’re back in control, you’re in your kitchen and you’re going to use this knife to make yourself and Tom a wonderful dinner.”

Shaking a bit, he pulls the knife out of the block and stares down at it. Even though the knife’s clean, his memory is reminding him how sticky the handle had been and how dull the blade looked; covered in plaster dust. That silly fear is still gripping him…and that’s before his eyes land on his binder.

He’d been at 6390 cuts. He could easily get that down to 6300 before Tom gets here. But Tom would see the cuts…Oh! Jake could take down his television and cut on the wall behind it. If he puts the television back, Tom would never know. That old excitement is rushing through him and he’s trembling with the desire to go cut lines on his wall…but that fear is still there. He can’t picture himself cutting lines into the wall without remembering how miserable he’d been. He’d been stuck in a cold, lonely hell, filled with pain and gnawing hunger.

No. No, he doesn’t want to go back to that. Unlike with his paper total, it’s easy to push back the desire to carve lines on his wall again. There’s too much darkness associated with it.

Then he realizes he’s wasting time and Tom will be showing up for dinner soon. Jesus Christ, Jake! “Get a move on,” he tells himself sternly.

Keeping a tight grip on his knife with one hand, he pulls the chicken closer to himself. As soon as he’s touching the chicken and finding the joints where he’ll make his cuts, all other thoughts disappear. Once he’s started breaking down the chicken, that joy has returned and he shares a smile with his parents.

The rest of his cooking time goes very well. Like he’d already figured out weeks ago, staying busy is the key. Whenever he gets that urge to grab the pad of paper and draw lines on it, he sternly reminds himself to stay focused, looks at his parents and goes back to what he was doing. He keeps glancing at his dad’s watch to keep an eye on the time—both to keep track of how long he has until Tom gets home and ensure he won’t miss his half hour check-ins with Tom—and whenever he gets distracted by thoughts of doing his lines, he looks at the watch on his wrist and reminds himself that he’s wearing his dad’s watch. It’s strange, but reminding himself about that makes him feel protected. Like his dad’s watching over him and helping him wage war against his OCD.

By the time there’s a knock on his door and Tom’s voice is calling out “It’s me!”, Jake’s ready to start plating.

“Come in!” he calls towards the door, but doesn’t take his eyes off the plate where he’s lining up the grilled asparagus on Tom’s plate with the tongs in one hand and his ruler in the other. The asparagus need to be perfectly lined up and at half inch intervals. One of the silly asparagus pieces keeps trying to roll over and Jake’s gently turning it until he finds an orientation that keeps it from moving. After a quick re-measuring, he’s satisfied.

The door opens and Tom comes wandering in. Despite his casual appearance, Jake can see he’s worried. Smiling at him, Jake uses the tongs to pull one of the chicken breasts out of the hot pan that had come straight out of the oven and carefully puts it on the plate so the wing is covering two of the asparagus stalks and also hanging 1/4 inch past the second one. Perfect. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Tom’s eyes are huge and he looks really tense as he stares at Jake and his eyes roam around the counter.

Jake notices Tom’s eyes are catching on the pad of paper on the counter and he grins. “Go ahead and look at it. It’s still at 5025.”

Tom slowly pulls the pad of paper closer to himself and stares down at it. Not bothering to hide his proud grin, Jake finishes plating the other chicken breast and glances at his parents. Tom’s going to be as proud of him now as his parents would be.

“You really didn’t do any lines.” Tom mumbles, sounding surprised.

Jake’s grin grows even bigger as he gently nudges the chicken until exactly 1/4 inch of the wing is hanging past the second asparagus piece. “No. Not a single one.”

Finally, a smile spreads over Tom’s face. “Because you were busy cooking up a storm. Get your ass over here so I can hug you without ruining your plating.”

Laughing, Jake puts down the tongs and hurries around the counter where Tom’s already spread his arms and Jake grabs him, squeezing him tight and feeling so proud of himself. Tom’s hugging him very tightly and his nose is pressed against his neck. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispers. “Fuck, I can’t even—wow. I…”

Pulling back abruptly, Tom grabs Jake’s face and kisses him hard, his hands trembling on Jake’s face. His heart racing from joy, Jake twists his hands into the back of Tom’s shirt and kisses him back. As he kisses Tom and feels how hard he’s trembling, Jake realizes this wasn’t just a test for him, but for Tom too. Drawing back a bit, Jake presses his forehead against Tom’s, their breaths warming each other’s faces. “I’m proud of myself and I’m proud of you too.”

“I didn’t do anything. I’ve been sitting in a coffee shop with Mark, pretending I was paying attention to what he was saying while I checked my phone constantly.”

Jake smiles softly. “But you stayed at the coffee shop. I know you wanted to be here and you were very worried about me, but I wanted to do this on my own and you gave me that chance, despite how scared you were.”

Tom smiles softly. “We both did good today, huh?”

“Yes, we did.” Jake pulls back and lightly smacks Tom on the side. “Now come get cutlery out and pour the wine. I’m going to finish plating.”

Going back around the counter, Jake picks up the squeeze bottle containing the morel mushroom sauce and his ruler before he bends over one of the two plates. Picking a spot on the plate, he carefully squeezes out a stream of sauce, creating a perfect dot. When that’s done, he measures out two inches of space and makes another sauce dot, making this one 1/4 inch wider than the first. He puts five dots on the plate, increasing each one by 1/4 inches and making sure they’re separated by exactly 1 inch.

Before moving to the next plate, he measures out the distance from the edge of the plate to the center of the first dot, memorizes the distance and then it’s time to do the next plate. He screws up the second dot and makes it 3/8 inches too large, but after wiping it off quickly, he redoes it and gets it perfect.

When he’s done, he’s looking down at two beautiful plates that are perfect and look identical. Grinning and feeling very proud of himself, Jake pulls off his chef’s jacket, leaves it draped over the counter and picks up the plates. “Time to eat!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recipe Link: [Chocolate Mousse](https://www.gogogogourmet.com/dark-chocolate-mousse/)


	32. Chapter 32

While Tom sets the table, he keeps an eye on Jake as he finishes fussing with the plates and he tries to ignore the hint of discomfort that’s twisting in his gut.

His heart had nearly stopped when he’d come in and noticed that Jake was wearing his chef’s jacket. The last time he’d seen Jake wearing it, Jake had been huddled on the living room floor, starving and in pain, the jacket wrinkled and filthy. Seeing him wearing it again brings all those memories back, but Tom had pushed those thoughts back and focused on Jake’s proud smile and how healthy he looks.

It’ll probably take Tom a while before he’s not associating the jacket with what they’d gone through, but he knows how important wearing that jacket is to Jake and he kept his mouth shut.

But it’s even harder to keep his mouth shut when he sees Jake endlessly fussing with the size of the sauce dots on each plate. Seeing Jake measuring things with a ruler and spending so much time on such a silly thing is both scary and annoying.

Jake was so happy that he didn’t do any lines, but he doesn’t realize that he’s still spent the entire afternoon indulging his OCD’s wishes. Yes, this time Jake’s OCD resulted in him producing a wonderful and delicious meal that Tom can’t wait to enjoy and that’s much better than Jake cutting lines on a wall or drawing lines on a piece of paper. But watching Jake using his ruler while plating reminds Tom that Jake’s descent into hell had started long ago. Jake’s OCD had dug its claws into him years ago; using Jake’s cooking as an excuse.

That little bit of fear sits in Tom’s stomach as he tries to focus on setting the table and not stare at Jake, standing there in his chef’s jacket, using his ruler to measure something that nobody else cares about as Jake smiles joyfully the entire time. When Jake messes up the size of one of the sauce dots, he immediately wipes it off and grumbles to himself, annoyed and Tom presses his lips together so he doesn’t say anything.

He hates that Jake’s OCD has crept in through the back door and it’s wearing a disguise that’s making Jake think it’s a friend. Jake doesn’t seem to realize that this OCD is the same monster that nearly killed him. He’s just proud that he didn’t do any lines. He doesn’t seem to get it that he’s slowly walking down the same path that had nearly led him right off a cliff.

But no matter how worried Tom is about this whole thing, he wants to focus on the positives for tonight. The situation isn’t as dire as it could be. The worst case scenario would have involved Jake locking Tom out of his room and spending hours drawing lines to finish the 5025 total. No doubt, the presence of the pad of paper had tried seducing Jake and Tom knows how difficult it must have been for him to stay focused on other things. But Jake did it. He hadn’t drawn a single line and he’d spent the whole two hours by himself in his room, cooking and being happy, despite how difficult it must have been. And that’s an achievement that needs to be celebrated.

When Jake brings their plates to the table, he’s still smiling ear to ear and that reignites the pride and relief Tom was feeling earlier and he waits until Jake’s put the plates down before hugging him. “I’m so damn proud of you.”

Jake chuckles softly. “Thank you. Come on, let’s eat before it gets cold. I can’t wait to show you dessert.”

Eating Jake’s cooking again is as amazing as it’s always been and Tom quickly loses himself in the delicious, moist chicken and grilled asparagus, covering them in the rich, earthy mushroom sauce. “Oh, my God, this is so good.”

Grinning, Jake cuts himself a piece of chicken and asparagus and swipes them through the mushroom sauce dots. “I’m happy you like it.”

The wine Jake had chosen pairs perfectly with the mushroom sauce and emphasizes the flavors of the entire dish, making it heavenly. When they’re done eating dinner, Jake excuses himself to the kitchen and tells Tom to wait for him while he plates the dessert. Not wanting his good mood to fizzle away again while watching Jake’s OCD be the third person in their relationship, Tom is happy to stay at the table and wait.

When Jake’s ready, he appears at the table holding two gorgeously plated desserts and he’s still grinning as he puts the plates down. “It’s a raspberry macaron filled with raspberry jelly, vanilla pastry cream and fresh raspberries.”

Tom’s mouth waters as he stares at the macaron pastry in front of him. Sandwiched between the two light pink macaron cookies is a bright red layer of raspberry jelly, topped with alternating fresh raspberries and yellow pastry cream. The smooth dome of the top macaron has a small dab of pastry cream that’s holding a perfect raspberry on top.

It looks delicious, but once again, Tom can see evidence of Jake’s OCD all over this. He knows without having to measure anything that every single element on the two plates is exactly the same and Jake had spent time measuring everything. Making sure the macaron is in the very center of the plate. Making the raspberry jelly the exact same thickness. Only using raspberries that are the same size. Making sure each dot of pastry cream is the same size. That dab of pastry cream at the very top is in the exact center of the cookie and when Jake had pressed the raspberry onto it, Tom knows he probably measured the pastry cream to ensure the squished cream is the same size on both.

But Tom has a much easier time ignoring Jake’s OCD when he’s about to eat something this mouth watering. “I can’t wait to eat this. Wow! Please tell me I can have more than one.”

Jake laughs. “I made a ton of macarons. You can have as many as you want and we can share the rest with Chesa tomorrow for breakfast. It’ll be in incredibly unhealthy breakfast, but it won’t kill us to do it once in a while.”

Grinning, Tom takes a bite out of the macaron sandwich and his mouth fills with flaky, sweet macaron, the tangy taste of the fresh raspberries and the sweet, smooth pastry cream. “Oh, my God…” he mumbles, his mouth full.

Jake laughs, his eyes sparkling as he picks up a fork and knife and cuts his macaron into bite-sized pieces. “I’m happy you like it. I haven’t made macarons in a while.”

“You should definitely make them more.” As Tom chews, an idea occurs to him. “Oh! You should make me macarons that I can dip in chocolate mousse!” His eyes widening, he stares at Jake.

Laughing, Jake finishes chewing and swallowing before he shakes his head. “That would be too much of a good thing for you. You might have a heart attack and we can’t have that.”

Ignoring Jake, Tom’s still thinking. “And I’d want whipped cream! Fresh whipped cream. Oh, chocolate whipped cream! I can dip the macaron into chocolate mousse and then chocolate whipped cream. Oh, my God! Jake! You have to make that for me.”

Still laughing, Jake rolls his eyes. “Alright, fine. But I’m not letting you dip the macarons into bowls of mousse and whipped cream. I have too much respect for you, myself and my macarons to allow that.”

“Fine. You can plate them for me and make them as beautiful as you want and then I’ll eat them.”

To Tom’s pleasant surprise, Jake’s laughter fades away and he frowns in thought. “They’d be way too sweet. I’d have to include something tart to cut the sweetness or you wouldn’t be able to eat more than one. I could make dark chocolate macarons, my normal mousse and use fresh blackberries. I could make a blackberry jelly disc or a blackberry coulis that you’d eat with the macaron. That would work.”

Taking another bite of his dessert, Tom grins and knocks his feet against Jake’s under the table. “How the hell did I get so lucky, huh?”

That makes Jake blush a bit and he stares down at his plate. “Out of the two of us, I’m the lucky one.”

Tom smirks at him. “Nice try, but I’m not letting you steal that from me. You did amazing today and I get the honor of eating your delicious food again, so I win today.”

Jake smiles, his eyes sparkling. “I’m so glad you’re proud of me.”

“Damn right I’m proud of me. And I’ll show you how damn proud I am once I’ve had more macarons and we go to your wonderful, clean bed.”

That makes Jake’s grin grow even wider and he scrambles out of his chair. “Let me plate a few more macarons for you. It seems we have a schedule to keep.”

Tom laughs. “Yeah, we do.”

When Jake disappears into the kitchen, Tom shouts after him. “And while you’re plating, you can decide if you want me to fuck you right away or if you want me to suck you off and then finger you until you’re hard again and then fuck you.”

There’s a clatter from the kitchen—Jake must have dropped something—which makes Tom smirk.

“Tom Carlson! You can’t be making indecent proposals like that while I’m plating.”

“I have full faith in your ability to multi-task, Seever!”

* * *

Spending the night in Jake’s bed again makes it seem like they’ve truly come full circle. Jake’s as relaxed and enthusiastic in bed as he’d been while in Tom’s room, the sex is fantastic and Tom is overwhelmed with how happy he feels and how proud he is of Jake.

But those dark thoughts from yesterday come flooding right back while Tom’s sitting next to Chesa at the kitchen counter and they’re watching Jake fussing while he’s plating the macaron desserts for them. Chesa is thrilled to see Jake back in his kitchen and Jake can’t stop smiling, even as he’s measuring and nudging different components around the plates, so Tom keeps his thoughts to himself.

But once Chesa has finished cleaning Jake’s room and Jake’s cleaning up the kitchen, Tom decides he needs to talk about this. He’s happy that Jake’s happy, but it’s terrifying that Jake might not realize that he’s walking down the same dark path he’d nearly died on just a few weeks earlier and Tom won’t sit back and watch Jake’s OCD grab hold of him again, even if its disguised as a friend. “Jake?”

Putting the last mixing bowl into the dishwasher, Jake glances at him. “Do you want more? We’re out of macarons, but I can make a fresh batch. But you’ll have to live in the gym for a week to make up for it.”

Tom manages a strained laugh. “No, I’m fine. There’s something I wanna talk about. Something really important.”

Frowning, Jake shuts the dishwasher and presses the buttons to start the cycle. “Okay.” He comes around the counter and sits down next to him, looking at him with concern.

Taking a deep breath, Tom stares at Jake. He knows this is going to be a difficult conversation. Jake will deny that his OCD is a problem, he’ll probably get angry at Tom for suggesting that it is and this whole thing might blow up in their faces. But not saying anything will make the situation blow up in their faces anyway, so Tom has no choice. “You’re not gonna like what I have to say, but I’m begging you to remember that I’m saying it because I love you. I’m not trying to be antagonizing or diminish the huge effort you’ve put into your recovery. I love you.”

Jake’s frown gets more worried. “I know that.” He’s trying to appear casual, but Tom can see tension creeping through him.

Here we go. “I’m worried that your plating is being controlled by your OCD and you don’t see how dangerous that is.”

Jake stares at him, then snorts. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I don’t think it is.”

“No, listen. I know I’ve always denied that I have OCD but I’m willing to admit that yes, my OCD does influence my plating.”

“Then you—”

Jake puts up a hand to silence him. “But the rituals connected to my plating aren’t dangerous. I can control it. Wanting to measure things on a plate to make sure they’re perfect is something _I’m_ choosing to do. Not the OCD.”

Tom stares at him carefully. “So you really think you could just stop doing it?”

“Absolutely.”

“This isn’t the same as doing lines, Jake. That’s a situation where you could easily see that it’s a pointless exercise. But when the OCD is related to your cooking…I don’t think you have nearly as much control over it as you think you do.”

Jake is getting that look on his face that tells Tom he’s getting ready to argue. Fighting over this is the last thing Tom wants, so he looks around the kitchen to prove his point. Spying the newly cleaned fruit bowl on the counter, Tom gets an idea. The bowl very nicely represents what Jake has been through and where they’re at now.

The bowl had been sitting in the kitchen for years, being useful and holding delicious fresh fruit that Jake could eat whenever he wanted. Then Jake’s OCD had incorporated the bowl and the fruit it held into his breakdown and the bowl went to sit on Jake’s bed where it held the rotting fruit for months; neglected and suffering, just like Jake. Now, the bowl’s been cleaned up, all the rotting fruit has been removed and the bowl is back in its proper place in the kitchen, full of fresh fruit. But Tom knows that the fruit in the bowl is still closely connected to Jake’s OCD and it might look fine, but the potential to turn back into a rotting mess is there. The tough part is proving that to Jake. Grabbing an apple from the bowl, he tosses it at Jake. “Wash that and cut me some slices.”

Raising his eyebrows, Jake twists the apple in his hand. “What? Why? That’s silly.”

Tom shrugs. “Maybe. If you can do it, then I’m wrong and I’ll never mention this again. But if I’m right, then we need to deal with it.”

He knows he’s not wrong. Unfortunately.

Rolling his eyes, Jake goes to the sink and washes the apple. After drying it, he pulls out his chef’s knife and puts the apple on a cutting board. He easily slices it in half, cores both halves and lays the two halves down flat. He reaches for the drawer that contains his rulers and that’s when Tom takes another deep breath. “Cut them without a ruler.”

Jake frowns at him. “Why? I want each slice to be the same.”

“I think your OCD wants the slices to be the same and I think you’re so used to doing what the OCD wants that you’ve convinced yourself that’s what you want too.”

Twisting his lips, Jake glares at him. “I’m not going to hack this apple into pieces and serve it to you looking like they’ve been pulled out of a dog’s mouth!”

Tom takes a deep breath. Jesus, he doesn’t want this to turn into a fight, but he knows Jake’s stubbornness and his OCD won’t give in easily. “I don’t want you to butcher the apple. I want you to slice it like a normal human being would. They’ll be nice and beautiful slices and I’ll enjoy eating them, even if they’re not the exact same size.”

* * *

Tom’s being ridiculous. Jake can’t decide if he’s amused or angry at Tom’s silliness. Using a ruler to measure things while cooking and plating is something _he_ chooses to do because it’s important that his food is perfect. That’s not something his OCD is forcing him to do. His OCD makes him do ridiculous things like cut lines on a wall or draw silly lines on a piece of paper. But he realizes why the two situations may looks similar to Tom and why he’s concerned about it. Jake’s not concerned, but he doesn’t like worrying Tom, so he’ll indulge him.

As he tightens his grip on the knife handle and positions the first apple half on the cutting board, he easily cuts off the edge of the apple with the smooth, domed skin covering most of it. He uses the tip of his knife to shove the piece to the edge of the cutting board because obviously, that’s not a piece fit for consumption.

Lining up his knife on the apple, he decides what thickness he wants and makes a quick, clean cut through the apple and is left with a nice slice. Still feeling annoyed at Tom’s silliness, he moves the knife over and uses his eyes to estimate when he’s at the same thickness as the first slice…

…but as he’s about to start cutting, all of his irritation fades away and anxiety rushes through him as his hand freezes. The slice looks like it’ll be the same, but Jake knows he’s probably off by a few fractions of an inch. His hand twitches and his eyes drift down to the closed drawer which holds his precious rulers. Oh, he wants to pull one of them out so badly! Just to do a quick check. It wouldn’t take him long at all. He’d do a quick measuring of the first slice and make sure the second slice will be the same. Then they’ll be perfect. That familiar excitement rises up and he really wants to pull out his ruler so he can make perfect slices.

Then he notices Tom staring at him, looking sad and that’s when Jake’s anger comes back. He’d just finished telling Tom that he’s the one calling the shots in the kitchen, not his OCD! If he wants to change how he does things, he can do that. If he doesn’t want to measure the damn slices, then he doesn’t have to. Tom usually eats apples by biting directly from the apple, so clearly Tom wouldn’t care if the slices aren’t the same size. So if Jake decides that he doesn’t care either, then he should be able to do this.

His hand’s shaking and Jake clenches his jaw, glaring down at the apple and trying to push down the panic that’s welling up inside of him. He’s in control. He’s going to cut this stupid apple and do it quickly and then he’ll show Tom and himself that he was right and he’s in charge.

His heart’s racing but he tightens his grip on the apple and his knife and just starts slicing, making one quick cut after the other. He stops between each slice to get the knife lined up so the slice will be roughly the same size as the others, but he doesn’t let his anxiety stop him.

When he’s finished, he’s shaking and he puts the knife down before he drops it on his foot. He’s staring down at the pile of slices on the board and there’s a voice screaming at his head that none of them are right. All of them are different sizes and that’s not right. That’s not right, that’s not right, _that’s not right!_

As he’s staring down at them and struggling to breathe, Tom suddenly appears next to him. He’s looking at Jake carefully. “Ready for me to eat them?”

That nearly makes Jake’s heart stop and he stares at Tom incredulously. Tom can’t eat these! They’re all different sizes! They’re not fit to be eaten! There’s no way he can allow—

Tom still staring at him. “If you’re in charge when you’re cooking—like you claim you are—then you won’t have any problem with me eating these, right?”

Jake’s throat is so tight that he can’t respond, but as Tom picks up two of the horrible, deformed pieces and goes to stick them in his mouth, that panic explodes and Jake’s breath catches as he smacks the pieces out of Tom’s hand.

No, no, no, no, no! Tom can’t—Jake can’t let—these aren’t—there’s no way Jake will let—no, no, no!

As the panicked thoughts swirl around in Jake’s head, he grabs the cutting board and marches over to his garbage can and quickly shoves the terrible apple pieces into the garbage. Once the last piece has been frantically shoved into the can, Jake slams the lid shut and immediately, relief floods through him. He’d saved Tom from eating the bad pieces. Everything’s okay. Tom hadn’t eaten any so everything’s going to be fine.

But as he takes deep breaths and starts to calm down, reality slowly comes back to him. Blinking, Jake stares down at himself. He’s holding the cutting board, he’s standing by the garbage can and he’s just thrown a perfectly good apple into the garbage. And why? Because…because he hadn’t measured each slice. The slices had been perfectly fine. The apple had been ripe and in perfect condition. The slices hadn’t looked horrible. Each one had been cut straight and could have been eaten.

But Jake couldn’t let Tom eat them and he’d panicked so badly that he’d shoved them into the garbage can. He’d thrown perfectly good food into the garbage just because he hadn’t measured each slice to make sure it’s exactly the same width.

That’s not…that’s not a decision Jake made. He hates wasting food. He knows that nothing would have happened to Tom if he’d eaten those slices, despite Jake not having measured them. The decision to throw them out because he hadn’t measured them was a decision his OCD had made. Not Jake.

Feeling sick, Jake stares at Tom, devastation clenching his gut and he wants to burst into tears. He’d made so much progress battling his OCD. He hasn’t drawn any lines and he truly thought he was back in control. But he’s not. He hasn’t been in control for a very long time. Fear clutches him and Jake stares at Tom, tears welling up in his eyes.

Tom takes the cutting board out of his hands and puts it on the counter before pulling Jake into his arms, holding him tight as Jake clings to him, shaking and terrified.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Tom whispers into his ear.

“I’m—Tom—I’m scared. I don’t—I didn’t even recognize it,” Jake chokes out in a whisper, tears clogging his throat and rolling down his face. He’s never been this scared in his entire life. There’s a monster living inside of him and it’s one that Jake has no power over. “This—this is what happened last time, isn’t it? I didn’t recognize it when it was here and I just went along with it and it nearly killed me. If—if I didn’t recognize it last time and I didn’t recognize it now, how am I ever going to beat this?”

Tom pulls back and puts his hands on Jake’s face, brushing his tears off his cheeks and giving him a hard look. “We’re gonna beat it together, just like we did when it was making you do lines.”

Jake frantically shakes his head as much as he can with Tom’s hands holding his face as he sobs. “But cooking is my whole life! I can’t—I can’t just stop cooking!” he chokes out.

His fear is nearly making his heart stop.

Tom shakes his head and presses his forehead against Jake’s. “You’re not gonna stop cooking. Cooking is something that’s yours and we’re gonna kick the OCD out of it. It’s spread itself through your cooking and it’s been really comfortable for years, but we’re gonna find every trace of it, pull it out and throw it out of the kitchen once and for all. And then we’re gonna put up the strongest doors you’ve ever seen so it can’t ever get back into your kitchen.”

Jake keeps crying. Despite Tom’s words, Jake’s head is filled with a terrifying, dark uncertainty. He can’t beat this. This monster’s stronger than Jake ever imagined it would be and it’s so deeply intertwined with his life that he has no idea how they’ll ever untangle it from his life and get rid of it without killing him.

“You hear me, Jake? We _will_ beat this thing,” Tom says, his voice full of hard determination. “We understand how it thinks and how it works. We’re gonna fight it with everything we’ve got and we’re gonna win. I know we will.”

Pulling Jake into his arms again, Tom holds him tight, squeezing him tighter than he ever has before, anchoring Jake. It really feels like Tom’s the only thing holding him from shattering into pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recipe Links: [Lemon and Raspberry Macarons](https://youtu.be/eC4Fo8gGwTA) and [Panfried Chicken Breast with Morel Sauce](https://youtu.be/56BK1nCc67A)


	33. Chapter 33

To calm Jake down, Tom brings them to the couch and turns on the television, since it’s just about time for their favorite soap opera to start. Well, it’s Jake’s favorite. Tom still couldn’t care less about the show, but he knows it’ll help calm Jake down.

Jake curls up on the couch with his head on Tom’s lap and Tom gently rubs his stomach. As the episode starts, Jake stops crying and the tension slowly leaves him, which is progress. When Jake has calmed down, Tom grabs Jake’s laptop and boots it up. He already has a plan in place for defeating Jake’s OCD, but he needs to do research first. This time, his research won’t be OCD related but cooking related.

By the time the episode’s done, Jake is fully relaxed, but he’s still sad. As the end credits roll across the screen, Jake sits up and turns the television off and slumps against Tom’s side, staring off into space and looking devastated. “I don’t know how we’re going to fix this,” he mumbles.

His timing is perfect, because Tom’s found a lot of good information on the internet and unlike Jake, he’s feeling optimistic about things. To start with, he puts the laptop on the coffee table and twists to face Jake. “Okay, listen to me.”

“Uh huh…”

“You’re doing the measuring because the OCD is telling you to do it, but that’s not why you started doing it. Why did it start?”

Tom knows the answer, but he needs Jake to follow along and hopefully, he’ll end up coming to the conclusions Tom wants him to get to.

“Because presentation is just as important as the quality of the food.”

“It’s really not.”

That makes Jake’s face twist and he gives Tom an unimpressed look. “I don’t work in a damn diner or a cafeteria! I work in a fine dining restaurant! You know how much my desserts cost. Diners aren’t just paying to get great tasting desserts, but they’re paying to get beautifully presented food.”

Tom nods. “Absolutely. But there’s a huge difference between slapping things on a plate with no regard to how the plate looks versus measuring every tiny thing on it.”

“The plates have to be identical! That’s the whole point. Every diner deserves perfection.”

Grabbing Jake’s hands, Tom squeezes them. “Yes, they do. But the problem is what you define as perfection.”

“ _What?_ Perfection has one definition. It means everything is in its right place and every component looks exactly the same on every plate.”

“I don’t agree.”

“Well, you’re not a chef,” Jake spits out.

Tom gives him a look, letting him know that just because Jake’s in a bad mood, being rude isn’t cool.

Immediately, Jake closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. This is really hard for me.”

“I know it is. You’re challenging the way you’ve done things in the kitchen for your entire life and yeah, that’s gonna be really tough. But you have to stay open minded and use your head if you’re gonna fix this.”

Jake’s eyes are still closed and his jaw is clenched. Tom can feel the tension in his hands and he knows Jake’s OCD can sense that a fight is coming and it’s already busy telling Jake to ignore Tom and that everything they’re discussing is nonsense that should be ignored. But Tom refuses to let it win. That’s not an option. “I’ve eaten in that restaurant hundreds of times and I’ve never, ever seen a diner take out a ruler and measure things on their plate to make sure everything’s exactly the same. They don’t care. As long as the plates look relatively similar and they all look beautiful, they’re happy.”

“But getting the right balance for everything is important.”

“Of course it is. But you’re spending time on something that nobody else cares about. When I get ready for a client, I spend a lot of time picking out what clothes to wear, deciding how to act and what to say, but I know what details are important and which ones aren’t. If I spend two hours picking between a dark green and a dark blue tie, that’s a waste of my time. The client won’t care. As long as I’m not wearing a bright pink tie, I’m giving the client the experience they want. You’re already doing that by putting the right things on the plate in the right quantities and making sure they go well together. But fussing with every tiny detail of how everything’s put on the plate is something nobody else cares about, so you’re wasting your time.”

“I still think—”

“Does Liying ever measure things while she’s plating?”

That makes Jake open his eyes. He still has that stubborn mulish look on his face, but he starts to frown. “No…”

“No. And has Chef ever complained about her plating?”

“No…”

“Has any diner ever complained about her plating?”

Jake sighs softly. “No…”

Tom squeezes his hands gently. “Does Liying produce beautiful plates that are worthy of being served in the restaurant?”

There’s silence for a moment. Finally, Jake presses his lips together. “Yes,” he whispers.

“You know that she’s not a superhero who can magically measure things with her eyes. You know that she’s plating things without using a ruler, yet she’s producing plates that are acceptable. Why can’t you do the same?”

“Because it wouldn’t feel right,” Jake whispers.

“Why not?”

“Because even if the diners don’t care or notice, even if Chef doesn’t care or notice, I’d know that I didn’t measure everything and that something might be a little off.”

“Even if it is, does that impact the taste?”

“No.”

“And does it make the plate unworthy of being sent out of the kitchen?”

Jake doesn’t answer for a long time. Tom can tell there’s a war going on in his head: Jake’s common sense battling with what his OCD is telling him.

“Part of me says that no, it’s perfectly fine,” Jake whispers. “It doesn’t matter if the spacing between the coulis dots are a fraction of an inch different. But there’s another part of me that’s convinced it _does_ matter and the idea of serving it like that makes me really anxious.”

“That’s your OCD. It’s convinced you that the plates need to be identical or they’re horrible and nobody should eat them. You know that nothing’s gonna happen to the person eating it or the reputation of the restaurant if somebody gets a plate where the coulis dot is slightly more to the right than on the plate on the table next to them.”

Taking a deep breath, Jake closes his eyes, looking sad again. “I know that…but there’s that anxious voice in my head, screaming at me that it’s wrong.”

“You know that’s your OCD. You _know_ that. That’s the same OCD that screamed at you that you have to draw lines on a piece of paper or you’re a failure. But when you took a step back, you realized that’s not true and the only thing you had to do was tell that voice to shut up. This is the exact same thing.”

Clenching his jaw, Jake slumps against Tom’s side. “This is going to be so much harder. Doing the lines had nothing to do with my life, but cooking is my whole life. Well, except for you. You and cooking are my life. And I hate the idea that I have to turn my cooking into a battle.”

Releasing Jake’s hands, Tom puts his arm around him and rubs his back as he kisses Jake’s forehead. “It’ll be a battle for a little while, but if you win, then it’ll be worth it.”

“I don’t know if I have the strength to do that.”

“You have to do the same thing that you did with the line thing. You remember how much easier it got once you realized how hurtful the OCD was and how much pain it was causing you?”

“Yeah…but my cooking hasn’t ever hurt me that badly. I have my binder of numbers to remind me how bad the line cutting situation got, but I don’t have anything like that for my cooking.”

Tom rubs slow circles on his back. “Sure, you do. That last service you had, when you were forced to take your leave of absence? That had everything to do with your OCD.”

Frowning, Jake shifts against Tom. “You never told me the details about that.”

“It wasn’t relevant earlier.” Tom takes a deep breath. “You had a really rough time during the service. You were still grieving and that was slowing you down. You were way behind on your plating and Liying tried to help you, but you got upset with her. Anyway, that’s not important. What’s important is that I’m pretty sure your OCD was making your progress even slower than it was because of your grief. Normally, you can keep up in the kitchen and do what your OCD wants because you’re used to it. But you’re always battling to keep that perfect balance between obeying the OCD and doing your job properly, so if there’s something else slightly slowing you down—everything falls apart.”

Slowly, Jake sits up. “So…I lost my job because of my OCD?”

“You didn’t lose your job, Jake. You’re on a leave of absence, remember? You can talk to Chef Mitra about getting your job back whenever you want. But yeah, you were already dealing with a lot and your OCD was making things even harder than it had to be.”

Jake’s quiet, but he’s frowning in concentration as he listens, which is a good sign.

“But even when you’re doing okay, your OCD has always made your life more difficult than it needs to be. Does Liying spend hours practicing plating new dishes before service?”

Jake lets out a quiet breath. “No.”

“No. Why do you do it?”

“So I won’t be slow during service. So I can keep up with the pace.”

“Right. Because your OCD is making the plating process ten times more complicated than it needs to be. You’ve always accepted that and you’ve allowed the OCD to force you to spend your free time making sure you can give it what it wants. Nobody cares about all those little details, only the OCD. And you’ve always given it all the time and energy it demands while it’s given you nothing in return. You could be spending that time coming up with new desserts or with me or watching TV, but the OCD is stealing that time from you.”

Slowly, Jake’s face hardens as anger begins to brew within him. This time, Tom knows it’s anger at the OCD, not at Tom, which is another great sign. But Tom wants to really bring the point home. “I think the OCD is also limiting your creativity.”

That makes Jake frown. “How?”

To answer that, Tom pulls the computer back on his lap and opens it to show Jake the collection of pictures he’s found. He points at a beautiful tart that’s filled with almond cream and topped with shiny coffee chocolate ganache. The part that Tom wants to focus on are the decorations on top of the tart, which consist of chocolate curls, bits of gold foil and mascarpone quenelles. “Take a look at this tart. Is this something you’d ever make for the restaurant?”

Jake takes one look at it and snorts. “No. It would take me ages to plate properly. Every bit of gold foil is a different size, so that’s no good. Those chocolate curls are terrible because they’re all different sizes and shapes, but I could make them all look the same. But they would have to be placed in precise spots, which would take forever because every time I nudge it over, it would leave a blemish in the ganache. And scooping absolutely identical sized quenelles is impossible, which is why I never use them.”

“Does the dessert look nice?”

Frowning with distaste, Jake wrinkles his nose. “No. You can see that the quenelles are all different shapes. And look!” He points at the screen. “That piece of gold foil is a tiny piece, and there’s a big bunch.”

“You’re busy focusing on the details that nobody else will focus on. If somebody put this plate in front of you and you’re looking forward to eating it, then would you think it looks beautiful?”

Still frowning, Jake stares at it for a long moment. Eventually, his jaw shifts. “I know what you’re getting at, but I can’t stop myself from focusing on the small details that are wrong. That’s all I see.”

Tom nods. “I think that’s the problem. Your OCD has trained you to focus on those tiny details so much that it drives you crazy if they’re not identical. Your OCD has robbed you of the ability to appreciate a dessert that looks beautiful just because you wouldn’t be able to make exact replicas of it.”

Jake keeps staring at the dessert, looking troubled, but also annoyed. “I don’t like that. I know that’s a restaurant quality dessert, but I hate that I can’t appreciate it for what it is.”

“Let me show you something else.” Tom switches to a different page, one which has a video that demonstrates different plating techniques for desserts. “Watch.”

He presses play and watches the hands on the video putting down a white plate, then adding a thick line of chocolate sauce down the center of the plate. The hands tilt the plate and the sauce runs down in streaks for a few inches; none of the streaks the same size. Then the plate is put flat and a simple piece of chocolate cake is put on the other side of the chocolate sauce line.

The scene shifts and a new white plate is put down. Alternating drops of pink and purple sauce dots are put along the edge of the plate, then a toothpick is dragged through the middle of each dot in a wavy pattern, creating a beautiful flowing and marbled effect along the edge of the plate. Some pink and purple macarons are put into the center of the plate.

Stopping the video, Tom looks at Jake. “You’d never use either of these plating techniques, right?”

Jake makes a face. “No.” His voice is quiet. He still sounds annoyed, which is good. “The streaks were all different lengths and it’s impossible to determine how the sauce will run. You can’t possibly make two plates look the same. And the blending effect wouldn’t work either because the colors would blend slightly differently on each plate.”

“But do the plates look horrible?”

Unlike before, Jake doesn’t answer immediately. He’s staring at the frozen picture of the macaron plate with the beautiful swirling pink and purple colors along the edge. He chews on his lip. “I like how that looks. It looks professional and beautiful.”

Tom smiles, but then pushes the smile away. Getting distracted by pretty things isn’t the point here. “But you can’t ever use that plating technique, can you?”

“I…”

“Would your OCD allow it?”

That makes Jake’s face darken again. “No. No, it wouldn’t.” Sitting back against the couch, Jake stares at the dark television, his jaw shifting as he starts to glare. “My OCD really _is_ forcing me to limit my creativity.”

“Yeah. It’s stealing your time, energy and blocking your creativity. And for what? What has it ever given you in return?”

“Nothing,” Jake says, a hard edge to his voice. “Absolutely nothing. Nobody’s ever died or complained from eating Liying’s desserts. Nobody’s ever given me a special award for plating. People compliment my desserts just as much as they compliment Liying’s.”

“Technically, all of those desserts are your ideas, aren’t they?”

Jake shrugs. “Yes, I suppose. But Liying still helps to execute them properly.”

“I’m not trying to take anything away from her but my point is that whenever I hear people complimenting your desserts, I always hear them say the same two things. First, they marvel over how creative it is and how great it looks. Then they try it and they’re blown away by the taste.”

Tom’s remembering how impressed Jake’s parents had been when they’d tried that beautiful panna cotta dessert, served in that ice sculpture. But bringing up Jake’s parents right now would distract Jake and that’s not what Tom wants. “You could be getting even more compliments if you had more time and less restrictions on what you can create. Nobody else is restricting you, just your OCD. You’ve told me a thousand times how lucky you are that you work in a kitchen where you have no budget limits for ingredients and you have full freedom with the dessert menu. So why are you letting the damn OCD limit you when nobody else is?”

Drawing in a deep breath, Jake turns his head and stares at Tom. Gone is the terrified, sobbing man who Tom had held in his arms in the kitchen. This is the Jake Seever Tom loves more than anybody in the world. Intelligent, stubborn and ready to wage war against the illness living in his head. “I’m done letting it waste my time.”

Tom smiles, joy lighting up in his heart.

“Will you help me wage war against it?” Jake asks.

His smile growing bigger, Tom grabs Jake’s face and kisses him hard. “Of course I will.”

Putting his hands on Tom’s face, Jake stares at him, his eyes sparking with determination. “I love you. I love you more than anything.”

Smiling, Tom kisses Jake and when Jake takes over the kiss, Tom lets himself be pushed back on the couch as Jake climbs on top of him, kissing him hard and thrusting his groin against his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recipe Link: [Almond Chocolate Coffee Tart](https://chefspencil.com/recipe/almond-coffee-chocolate-tart-with-mascarpone-cream/)
> 
> [Here](https://youtu.be/akk4aG5nnoc) is the plating techniques video Tom showed Jake.


	34. Chapter 34

Jake blinks at Tom as they’re standing in his kitchen. “You want to make what?”

Tom’s wearing the same grin he’s been wearing since he’s come back from accompanying his friend Mark on a shopping trip. He’s worn it all the way through eating lunch in Jake’s room and helping him clear the table and now it’s gotten even bigger as they’re leaning against Jake’s counter. “We’re gonna make cake pops. It was Mark’s idea.”

That makes Jake frown. “You told your friend about my…situation?”

Tom’s grin vanishes. “No! I just told him you’re gonna teach me how to bake and since I know nothing, we were looking for easy things to make. He suggested cake pops, since they’re practically idiot-proof.”

Jake blinks, already hating this idea. “Cake pops are for children.”

“I thought the same thing, but I checked online and cake pops have gotten really fashionable these days. All the trendy pastry stores are making them.”

Sighing, Jake struggles not to roll his eyes. “The point of this is to get me back into a professional kitchen. Cake pops will never be on the restaurant’s menu so I don’t see the point of practicing with them.”

Tom’s shaking his head. “I’m not suggesting that you put them on the menu. I agree that they’re not fancy enough for the restaurant. But I think the cake pops will be a great way for you to confront your OCD.”

Making a face, Jake crosses his arms, not liking any of this. “How?”

“You won’t measure any of the cake balls so they’ll all be different sizes. Plus, we’re gonna make rainbow cake pops so each of them will look different.”

“What on earth are rainbow cake pops?!”

“We’re gonna use a white color as the dipping base and add different colors into it so when you’re dipping the cake balls, it’ll be impossible for you to make two that are identical.”

Immediately, that familiar anxiety rises up in Jake’s stomach and he clenches his jaw. “It sounds like a nightmare. It’s everything I hate, all in one.”

“It’s everything your OCD hates, all in one. But if you’re gonna re-train your brain to appreciate beautiful food that doesn’t match your old definition of perfection, then you need to go big and really push it. That’ll be the easiest way to do it.”

* * *

Jake’s anxiety stays high all the way through making the chocolate cake and chocolate frosting. When Tom shows him the cake pop sticks and the styrofoam cake pop holder thing he’d bought, Jake can’t muster up any gratitude for it. His stomach is tied in knots and he keeps dreading making deformed, grotesque looking things that Tom will want to eat.

After breaking up the chocolate cake in a bowl and adding frosting, Jake mixes it together until the cake can be formed into balls. Then it’s time to start.

Tom’s busy lining a baking tray with parchment and Jake listens to the crinkling of the parchment as he stares into the bowl filled with chocolate cake, his heart racing. “I don’t know if I can do this. I already feel sick.”

Putting down the parchment box, Tom steps up behind Jake and wraps his arms around him. “Your OCD knows we’re coming for it and it’s gonna put up one hell of a fight,” he whispers into Jake’s ear. “But I know that you’re stronger than the OCD. It’ll be hard, but you can do this. And you know what else?”

“What?” Jake’s trembling slightly, his throat tight.

Tom points at the photograph of his parents that sits on the counter. “Your parents know you can do this too. They’re cheering you on and they’re gonna be so proud of you when you push through.”

But that actually makes Jake feel worse and his eyes slide off the photograph. “But if I fail, I’ll have disappointed them.”

Tom puts his arms around Jake again and squeezes him hard. “If you don’t do well today, we’ll try again another day. All they’d care about is that you keep trying. If cake pops are too much, we’ll find something else to try.”

Jake closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, soaking up strength from Tom. “I can’t believe you’re helping me with this. This entire thing is so ridiculous and here I am—nearly having a breakdown at the thought of making stupid cake balls. I don’t understand how you’re putting up with this.”

Tom kisses his neck. “There’s nothing ridiculous about it. The baking skills you’re using here are really basic, but everything else will be harder than any cooking you’ve ever done before. And I’m here because I love you and I nearly lost you to this stupid illness once and I’m not letting it steal you from me again.”

Keeping his eyes closed, Jake puts his hands over Tom’s and reminds himself why this is important. He wants to beat his OCD. If there was any doubt that his illness has an incredibly strong grip on him, those have faded now. He’s panicking at the thought of making a very simple dessert just because he’ll be going against his OCD’s demands. There’s no way he’s going to give in and allow his OCD to force him not to make simple little cake balls. Most importantly, he’s not waging this war on his own. He has Tom and his parents. Their photo is sitting right on the counter and Jake can see their encouraging smiles whenever he wants. And he’s wearing his dad’s watch. He can feel it pressed against his wrist where he’s clutching Tom’s hands. Taking another deep breath, Jake opens his eyes. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Let’s try this.”

“Where do you want me to stand?”

Jake immediately tightens his grip on Tom’s arms around him. “I’d really like it if you stayed right where you are. But only if you’re comfortable.”

Tom smiles against his neck as he nuzzles Jake. “I’m extremely comfortable.”

As Jake slowly releases Tom’s arms, he finds himself wishing that his OCD were a physical monster, instead of a mental one. If it were a physical being, Jake would know Tom’s keeping him safe from it. Unfortunately, the monster lives in his head and Tom can’t get in there. But Tom’s cheerleading from the outside will hopefully be enough for Jake to take on the monster on his own.

Drawing in a few more deep breaths, Jake slowly reaches into the bowl and takes out a small handful of moist, crumbly cake mixed with the sticky frosting. Squishing it in his hand, he brings his hands together and slowly slides his hands in a circular motion, forming the mixture into a ball. He keeps the ball in the center of his palms and when he’s satisfied, he puts it on the parchment paper.

But that was the easy part. Making the first one is always easy because that’s his template. Making the others will be the challenge. Dipping his hand back into the bowl, he takes out approximately the same amount and begins to roll it. The size of the ball feels the same in his hands as he’s forming it, but when he opens his hands, he notices one side of the ball has a small bulge. That’s easily fixed by pressing his thumb against it, but when he puts the ball next to the first one, he can see they’re different sizes.

The sizing difference isn’t outrageous. At a casual glance, they look the same. But as Jake stares at them harder, he can tell they’re different sizes. The first ball is slightly larger. That anxiety starts to grow and he automatically clenches his jaw, but he blinks hard and forces himself to go back to the bowl for his third ball.

Unfortunately, his third scoop is larger than the previous two had been. He quickly swipes a small amount of the mixture out of his scoop and begins to form his ball. But as he’s forming it, he can already feel in his hands that it’s still too large and that’s unacceptable. Before he’s even finished forming it, he drops it back into the bowl to start from the beginning.

“What are you doing?” Tom asks quietly, his tone light.

That’s when Jake remembers what he’s supposed to be doing. He’s supposed to be confronting his OCD. But…his OCD was only an inconvenience when it was taking up too much time. Making these balls is a fast process, so Jake doesn’t see the point in fighting over things. That ball had clearly been too large and it’s faster to redo it than put up with the anxiety that will overwhelm him if he tries keeping the horrendous looking ball. “It was too big. I’m going to redo it.”

“Okay,” Tom says, his chin resting on Jake’s shoulder. His voice is still casual.

Jake tears the old ball into pieces and mixes it back into the rest of the cake in the bowl, making his horrible mistake disappear. Scooping up a fresh handful, he forms what he hopes will truly be his third ball. It feels okay in his hand, but when Jake puts it down next to the first two, he can see it’s larger than the first two.

Damn it! He stares at the three balls on the parchment, making a face. All three are different sizes. It’s ridiculous! He can’t do this without measuring. At the very least, he needs a scale. Or even better, he can use an ice cream scooper and also a toothpick that he can insert into each ball horizontally and then vertically to measure the exact dimensions of it. Happy to have found a solution, Jake shifts to move to the sink so he can wash his hands and take out his ice cream scooper, but he’s trapped in Tom’s arms.

“You okay?” Tom asks.

“Just let go for a minute. I need to get an ice cream scooper. Can you get my ruler and a toothpick?”

Unfortunately, Tom isn’t pulling away. “Jake, stop. Why are we doing this?”

Jake’s jaw shifts. Why is Tom wasting time?! “We’re making these ridiculous cake pops that you wanted to make. But I can’t make them all the same size by hand, so we’ll be here forever unless I use tools to help me.”

“I don’t care if the cake pops aren’t identical.”

Tom’s light, casual tone is very annoying and that annoyance mixes with his anxiety and Jake clenches his hands. “Well, I care!”

“Do you really? What’s gonna happen if the balls are all different shapes?”

“They won’t be perfect!” he spits out, anger flooding through him at Tom’s stupid questions.

Tom’s arms stay tight around him. “I think they’ll be perfect if they look nice.”

“I don’t agree.”

“Jake, look at those three balls but look at each one individually. Tell me which one’s the ugly one.”

Staring at the chocolate balls, Jake opens his mouth to say that clearly, his third one’s the ugliest. It’s bigger than the other two. But upon closer inspection, he actually likes the shape of the third one best. It’s slightly more spherical than the other two. But he also likes the shape of the second one. It’s the smallest, but it’s the smoothest. In fact, as his eyes keep leaping from one to the next, he can’t decide which one he likes the best. They all have their plus point and their minus points.

“If you really think one of them is horrible and doesn’t deserve to stay on that parchment, tell me which one and why and we’ll shove the poor thing back into the bowl and destroy it.”

As Jake keeps staring at the three balls, he starts getting anxious for a whole new reason. All three balls look fine. He worked hard to make each of them. They each have nice components and some components that can use work. But is he prepared to banish any of them from the parchment paper? The answer is ‘no’. He doesn’t want to.

But as his eyes travel back to the bowl and he mentally prepares for his fourth ball, the anxiety returns and that voice is complaining loudly that all three balls are different sizes. How can Jake tolerate this? He should destroy all three balls and start again with a perfect template and use his measuring tools to make perfect copies.

But why?! He likes how each of these balls look. There’s nothing wrong with any of them. Not really. They’re cake balls. They don’t look horrible and Jake knows they taste fine. Making the first three was so quick. If he has to measure every single one, that’ll take forever. Jake doesn’t want to do that.

As he brings his hand back to the bowl, that panic grows thicker and his throat tightens as he starts shaking. The balls are all different sizes. That’s not right, that’s not right, that’s not right! He needs to destroy them. They don’t deserve to be on the parchment paper. How can he even consider making more of these grotesque things that Tom will eat?! It’s a struggle to breathe and Jake’s shaking so hard that if Tom weren’t holding him up, he’d probably be on the floor. He clutches Tom’s arm around his waist with his sticky, cake covered hands.

Tom nuzzles his neck. “Talk to me. What are you thinking?”

“I like them,” Jake whispers in a choked voice. “I like all of them.”

“That’s good. I do too. But your OCD hates them.”

It’s not a question. “Yes. It’s screaming at me that they’re not right and I have to redo them. It wants me to destroy them. But I don’t want to.”

Tears well up in his eyes and that voice is screaming ‘wrong, wrong, wrong’ in his head.

“You don’t have to destroy them,” Tom says, his strong voice matching the ferocity of the angry voice in Jake’s head. “You know the balls will taste good, right?”

“Yes…” Jake breathes out, his voice barely coming out of his throat.

“Do you think one of them is the ugliest out of the bunch?”

“No. They all have their flaws, but they’re cake balls. They’re fine. I think they’re fine. But leaving them like that and making more of them is making me feel anxious and sick.”

Tom’s arms tighten around him. “I know it is. You’re fighting back against your OCD regarding your cooking for the first time in your entire life. It was second nature for you to obey it and get that ice cream scooper and ruler, wasn’t it? But you didn’t do it.”

Clenching his jaw so hard that his teeth are aching, Jake closes his eyes, a few tears rolling down his face as he shakes like a leaf and feels like he’s going to throw up. “I don’t think I can do this. I know I should, but I don’t think I can physically do this. It’s too hard.”

“You’re already doing it. Look at you. You’re still standing here, the three balls are still sitting on the parchment and the ruler is still in the drawer. You’re already winning. You’re already doing it. That’s why you feel like shit right now because your OCD is panicking and throwing everything it has at you. But this is the hardest part. By pushing through this, you’re gonna give your OCD a massive blow and it’ll never recover from it. That’ll make it weaker. Then you just have to keep going and going and going until it’s so weak that you can easily ignore it. Just like with your lines.”

Slowly, Jake opens his eyes and sniff some of his tears back. Taking shaky breaths, Jake stares down at the three little cake balls sitting on the parchment paper. Jake won’t destroy them. He _won’t_. There’s nothing wrong with any of them and despite them being slightly different sizes, that’s perfectly acceptable. He’s not using them to construct a chocolate creation that’ll fall apart if they aren’t the perfect size. They’re fine. They’re _fine_ and he’s not going to give in. He’s _not_. “I’m going to keep fighting,” he whispers.

Tom squeezes him hard and kisses his neck. “Good. I’m so damn proud of you. Take all the time you want and let me know if you need me to do anything.”

Struggling to slow his breathing and push that voice in his head back, Jake keeps clutching Tom’s arms and leaning back against his solid warmth. “Please don’t let go.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“And when I’m panicking, talk to me. Remind me why I’m doing this and that you love me and remind me to look at my parents.”

“I will.”

Taking more deep breaths, Jake slowly releases his grip on Tom’s arms and reaches for the bowl, his hands still shaking and his throat tightening again. But he pushes through and scoops up a small amount of cake and frosting and begins forming the ball between his palms.

When he separates his hands, he notices the ball has a slight bulge on one side but he deliberately doesn’t smooth it out. The bulge gives the ball character. There’s nothing wrong with this ball. It’s still edible, it still looks nice. It’s perfectly fine the way it is. With his hand shaking, Jake carefully puts the imperfect yet perfect ball on the parchment paper, as his anxiety screams in his head that it’s wrong, wrong, wrong. His eyes focus on the small bulge on the side and how this ball is again a slightly different size than the others. Drawing in shaky breaths and pushing back the panic in his gut, Jake goes back to the bowl.

As he keeps making balls, his anxiety gets worse and worse as the parchment fills with more balls and he can’t stop focusing on how different each of them look and how that’s bad, bad, bad. At one point, he needs to clutch the edge of the counter to keep from throwing the whole baking sheet into the garbage and starting over.

Tom’s arms tighten around him. “Breathe, Jake. You’re doing so good. You’re fighting so hard and you’re winning. I know it doesn’t seem like you’re winning but you are. You really are. I’m so proud of you and your parents are too.”

Jake glances at his parents photo and squeezes Tom’s arms hard before clenching his jaw and going back to the bowl for another scoop.

The process is ridiculously slow, but as Jake keeps making more balls and his anxiety keeps growing, he also starts feeling more and more smug that he’s beating his OCD. Every ball he puts down is another victory and feeling his dad’s watch on his wrist and hearing Tom telling him how much he loves Jake and how proud he is of him helps keeps him going.

Eventually, he scoops up the remaining bits of cake mixture and makes one final ball, which is about half the size of the others. He briefly considers eating it right away, but then he deliberately forces his shaking hand to put it on the tray, right next to the other ones.

“It’s not ugly,” he mumbles firmly. “It’s _not_. It’s just a different size, but that’s fine. Cake pops do _not_ have to be the same size to be perfect.”

Tom smiles against his neck. “That cake pop is my favorite one.”

That makes Jake chuckle, despite how tight his throat is. “What’s next?”

“We’re gonna melt some white chocolate and use it to secure the cake pop sticks in each ball.”

Jake briefly closes his eyes. “And I won’t measure the depth and placement of each stick.”

Tom kisses his neck. “Nope.”

Clenching his jaw again at the new wave of anxiety that’s rolling through him, Jake pushes back from the counter. “Okay, let’s get the chocolate melted.”

* * *

Getting the sticks inserted into the cake pops is just as nerve-wracking and stressful as forming the balls had been. Jake can tell that he’d pushed some of the sticks in deeper than others and due to his shaking hands, he hadn’t managed to pierce the center of each ball. He’d tried reminding himself that a sphere doesn’t actually have a ‘center’, but he’d hated seeing the sticks poking out from different spots and at different lengths. He reminded himself over and over that each cake pop was still perfect in its own way and that nobody will care if one of the sticks isn’t the same length as the other.

Once the cake pops have been put into the fridge, they have twenty minutes to relax, which Tom uses to pull Jake onto his lap on the couch and kiss him, his eyes shining with pride. But Jake asks Tom not to get too relaxed because he wants to stay focused and be fully prepared to go back into battle when it’s time to do the dipping.

Getting ready for the dipping is easy. They melt white chocolate and add white food coloring powder to it to make it as white as possible. Then they separate out a few smaller batches and Jake adds food coloring powder to the smaller batches as per Tom’s wishes, since Jake is way too distracted by other things to worry about picking colors. Tom decides to go for a blue, yellow and pink. They’re going to pour the three colors in stripes over the top of the white chocolate so when Jake dips the cake pops in, the colors will leave behind interesting color patterns.

Jake wants to pour the colored chocolate into piping bags to ensure the stripes he’s making will be even, but Tom asks him to use a spoon instead. “That’ll make the colors show up more randomly and that’s the point, remember?”

As soon as Jake drizzles a spoonful of blue chocolate over top of the white, a large glop of blue drips off the spoon so his carefully drizzled lines are marred by an ugly blob. But he pushes back the urge to scoop out the colors and stays focused on what he’s supposed to be doing as he puts lines of pink and yellow, all in different directions, his hands shaking.

Then he grabs the first cake pop’s stick and gently dips it into the chocolate. When he pulls it out, the chocolate cake pop has been covered in white chocolate containing some swirls of pink, blue and a little yellow. Smiling, Jake lets the excess chocolate drip off before turning it over and putting it into the cake pop holder. The bright swirls of color look great and Jake knows the whole thing will look really nice once the tempered chocolate has solidified and become shiny.

Feeling great about this process, Jake grabs his second one and dips it into the white chocolate. But as soon as he pulls it out, his smile disappears and he tenses. His first cake pop had destroyed the careful lines of colors he’d put over top of the white chocolate. A lot blue had been used up by the first dip and this second cake pop has a lot less color.

“Try twirling it,” Tom says. “I watched a video about it. You can dip in different places and twirl and drag it. We can add more color too.”

Jake stares at his ugly cake pop hanging from his hand. It barely has any color on it, which he doesn’t like. The first one looked so pretty. But twirling might work. Dipping the cake pop back into the chocolate, he slowly twists the stick before pulling it back out.

This time, the cake pop has more color on it and the pink and yellow are now swirled around the entire ball. It looks neat. But as Jake puts it next to the other one, he keeps comparing the two of them. The first one had so much more blue. He doesn’t like how the second one barely has any. Well, that’s an easy fix.

He grabs the bowl of blue chocolate. “I need to put more blue and redo the second one.”

Tom squeezes him tighter. “It’s not going to look the same as the first. You know that’s not possible. You also know that it’s not necessary. Is one of them uglier than the other? Does one of them not deserve to be in the cake pop stand?”

Jake takes a deep breath, that anxiety quickly rising as he stares at the two very different colored cake pops. One of them has three stripes of colors. The other has two colors in a swirled pattern. He was going to say that the second one is uglier, but it’s not. He loves the swirled pattern. He’s never made anything with that kind of pattern before. It looks really neat. But he really does want to make the swirling pattern with blue…

…but he does need to keep re-doing the second one to get what he wants? He can just put more blue now and do the third…?

But after spooning more lines of blue into the white chocolate bowl and he picks up the third cake pop, his hand is shaking again and his eyes keep sliding over to the two different cake pops. They’re so different. So completely different. It’s not right. But it is. But it’s not. They’re fine. But they’re not. They’re both beautiful in their own way. But they’re horrible and ugly. But they’re not.

Closing his eyes, Jake takes a deep breath, shaking again as the war continues raging in his head.

“You’re doing great,” Tom whispers. “I’m really proud of you and you’ve made two cake pops already. You were gonna destroy both of them when they were just cake balls and you were gonna do the same thing just now, but they’re sitting there, whole and waiting to be eaten. You pushed through and you’re holding your third cake pop. You’re working so hard and I know it’s tough, but you’re doing it.”

Being reminded about the cake balls, Jake blinks and stares at the tray of cake balls that are waiting to be dipped. He’s completely forgotten about the fact that they’re all different sizes. In fact, he realizes the third cake pop in his hand is the tiny one and he hadn’t even noticed.

Smiling grimly, Jake feels a rush of satisfaction go through him. See? It really doesn’t matter. Both Jake and his OCD had already forgotten that the size of the cake pops had been a big deal. His OCD had made him cry, shake and nearly throw up because of it and now, the OCD has moved on to something else.

That reinforces Jake’s understanding of how abusive this illness is. The OCD doesn’t actually care about the cake ball sizes. If it did, Jake would still be obsessing over it. But it doesn’t. It cares about controlling Jake. Period. Nothing else matters. And that’s exactly why Jake won’t let it win.

“I’m not going to let it win,” Jake whispers. “It’s jumping from one situation to the next, trying to control me and I’m not letting it win.”

Tom smiles against his neck. “Good. It doesn’t deserve to win.”

Managing a small smile, Jake gently dips the small cake pop into the white chocolate, dragging and twirling it through the colored stripes. His hand is still shaking a bit as he pulls it out and the cake pop looks very different from the other two, but Jake doesn’t allow himself to compare it to the other two. He already knows it’s different. But who cares? This little cake pop looks beautiful on its own.

He realizes that’s what he needs to do. It’s like Tom had said. Perfection doesn’t mean every single thing is identical. Perfection means making each plate look beautiful. He can’t imagine actually applying this new process to his plating at the restaurant, but he decides not to put too much pressure on himself. He’s just going to focus on doing one cake pop at a time.

As he works, he experiments with different techniques and starts adding colors into the bowl in different places to achieve different effects. It’s a joy dipping the cake pop in and pulling out a beautiful, unique piece that’s covered in swirls and streaks of color.

Slowly, that anxiety starts to calm. As Jake settles into it, he’s spending so much time appreciating each cake pop and trying out new things that his earlier panic decreases to manageable levels. He still feels a little anxious and the cake pops still don’t feel right, but he ignores that and forces himself to focus on how unique each one is and reminding himself that they’re all perfect in their own way.

While he’s doing the last few, Jake’s grinning and relaxed against Tom. “This is really fun. The last time I had this much fun in the kitchen was when I was teaching you how to make chocolate mousse. But my OCD interrupted that from time to time. This is even more fun. I can experiment and try out new ideas without having to redo every single one of them.”

Tom smiles against his neck. “I’m really proud of you and I’m happy that you’re happy. You’re doing so damn well.”

Jake carefully dips and swirls another cake pop. “I still feel anxious. There’s a couple where I didn’t put enough of each color on them and I don’t like that. Then there’s the second one where I didn’t twirl it and it barely has any color on it. I’m not happy with that.”

“You don’t have to love each of them equally. That’s not what this is about. This is about you tolerating situations where you don’t get the exact result you want. Instead of re-doing things over and over again, you’re learning how to leave those situations behind and do better in the future.”

Smiling, Jake puts the cake pop into the stand and picks up another one. “And I’m appreciating how each of them looks. Even the ones that aren’t my favorite are still nice in their own way.”

Tom kisses his neck. “That’s important too. Just because something isn’t your favorite thing in the world doesn’t mean it deserves to be thrown in the trash.”

Jake clenches his jaw, his heart clenching a bit. He’d been so close to throwing his innocent little cake balls into the trash or putting them back into the bowl to be destroyed. And here they are. Each of them is a nice, unique cake pop that will be a joy to eat. And he was going to allow his OCD to destroy them just because they’re not exactly the same. “I’m glad I didn’t destroy them.”

“I am too. You worked really hard today. I can’t believe how good you did. You’re incredible.”

Putting his next dipped cake pop into the stand, Jake squeezes Tom’s arms. “I couldn’t have done it without you. I would have given up right after the second cake ball.”

Tom kisses his neck and squeezes him hard.

Leaning back against him, Jake smiles. “Hey?”

“Hmm?”

“You wanna dip the last few?”

“Sure!”

Grinning, Jake picks up the bowls of chocolate to spoon more color on top of the white chocolate. “Any request for colors?”

“Lots of pink, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, Chef.”

Chuckling, Jake finishes preparing the white chocolate bowl and hands Tom a cake pop. “Here you go. Happy dipping.”

Tom makes his own cake pops and Jake slumps against him, watching him swirl the stick through the white chocolate with his other hand staying on Jake’s stomach. Once they’re done, they clean up the kitchen and when the chocolate has set into shiny, hard shells, they eagerly go to the couch with Tom carrying their tray of hard work.

Curling up together with Jake lying on Tom’s chest, Jake reaches for the tray and deliberately picks up the tiny cake pop that had nearly ended up getting eaten early because Jake’s OCD hadn’t considered it worthy to become a cake pop.

Smiling and feeling very proud of himself, Jake bites through the thick chocolate shell and the sweet cake beneath, chewing happily as he stares at the colorful array of cake pops in the stand, each one covered in beautiful streaks of color and each one looking perfect in their own way.

Tom’s rubbing his back and munching on his own cake pop. “Mmm. Oh, these are damn good. And they taste even better because they’re full of success.”

Chuckling, Jake rubs his face against Tom’s shirt. “I still can’t believe I did it. That was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.”

“I knew you could do it,” Tom says, his mouth full of cake.

Pushing up a bit, Jake leans over Tom and stares down at him. What’s even more shocking to him than his own success is the fact that Tom stood there for over an hour while Jake fought a mental demon in his head while making cake balls. Not only that, but Tom had continued holding him and supporting him through the entire thing.

“I love you so much,” Jake whispers, staring at him in awe. “I can’t believe how lucky I am. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Tom smiles and tosses the empty stick on the coffee table. “You’re worth it. I don’t want you ever doubting that.”

Smiling and feeling overwhelmed with everything that’s happened today, Jake bends down and kisses Tom, who eagerly tangles his hands in Jake’s curly hair and kisses him hard, both of them tasting like sweet cake pops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recipe Link: [Rainbow Cake Pops](https://youtu.be/xOscxhim778)


	35. Chapter 35

As much as Jake wants to spend every minute of every day battling his OCD, it’s exhausting and Tom keeps reminding him to take it easy on himself.

“It’s a marathon, not a sprint. If you give 110% every second of the day, you’re gonna exhaust yourself and that’s when the OCD will take over again.”

That’s a good point, so Jake paces himself. He’s back to cooking every meal in his own kitchen but plating his food before eating it is still a problem. The cake pops had been a success, as were the pancakes that he and Tom make for breakfast the next morning—each one was a different shape and they all tasted great, despite how much Jake’s hands had shaken while eating them—but actually putting things on a plate is something Jake isn’t ready to tackle yet.

Thankfully, to make things easier for him and conserve his energy for the marathon, Tom takes over plating. Tom’s plating is terrible, but since Jake hadn’t done it himself, he doesn’t feel anxious about it and he doesn’t want to hurt Tom’s feelings, so he keeps his mouth shut and eats it. Besides, it’s ridiculous and wonderful that Tom’s willing to help him like that and Jake will often just sit and stare at Tom in awe, not understanding how it’s possible that somebody not related to him could love him enough to do these weird things for him.

But in general, things are going great. Jake’s back to spending most of his time in his room and that makes him think he’s ready for the next step. The only question is if Tom’s ready for it.

They’re spending the afternoon in the pool and after doing their laps, they both stick inflatable tubes around their waists and slowly kick their way in circles around the pool, chatting about random things and that makes Jake decide it’s a perfect time to bring up what he’s been thinking about. “Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“I wanted to let you know that if you want to go back to work, I’d be fine with that.”

Tom gives him a surprised look, but there’s a hint of worry in it. “Are you sure? I’ll be fine for a few more weeks.”

Jake gives him what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “I know, it’s not about that. And it has nothing to do with me not wanting to spend time with you. I love having you around but I’m back to standing on my own two feet. I’ll still needs lots of help with my OCD, but only in relation to cooking. I’m fine being by myself so if you’d like to go back to work, I’d be fine.”

A smile lights up Tom’s face. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

Tom looks more excited than Jake thought he’d be. “I’ve really missed working.”

Jake frowns, feeling a bit guilty, but Tom immediately narrows his eyes at him and reaches over with his foot to gently kick him, sending Jake drifting a little away from him. “Stop that. While you were recovering, there’s no other place I wanted to be than by your side. Nothing was more important to me than that. But I’ve missed having sex with different kinds of people and having different kinds of sex. It’s not something I need, but it’s something I enjoy. Besides, I’ve missed making money. I like seeing my bank account growing rather than shrinking.” Then he narrows his eyes at Jake. “And no, don’t even bother offering to give me any of your money because that’s not the point. I want my own money that I earned going in that account.”

Rolling his eyes, Jake smiles and kicks his way closer to Tom. “Fine. If you don’t want a billion dollars, then I’ll keep it. If you ever change your mind…”

Tom smiles softly, water from his wet hair dripping down his face. “I know. Thanks.”

Jake still thinks it’s ridiculous that Tom won’t take any of his money, but it’s a part of Tom’s personality that Jake is slowly starting to accept. But thinking about Tom going back to work brings up new issues. They’ve been living in both of their rooms for the last few months, randomly going back and forth together whenever they want. But Jake’s never enjoyed being in Tom’s room when Tom uses it for his clients. It always made Jake feel like he’s in Tom’s office, not his home.

“What’s with the frown on your face, Seever? What are you thinking about?”

Jake shoots Tom a worried look. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t feel comfortable spending a lot of time in your room when you’re using it for clients. When you’re working there, that’s your office. I don’t think you’d be comfortable if I asked you to come live in the restaurant kitchen.”

Tom chuckles, but it sounds a bit strained. “No, you’re right.” Resting his arms on the round tube, Tom presses his lips together and he seems to be thinking about something.

“Now you’re thinking about something,” Jake mumbles.

“Yeah. When I start seeing clients again…where—how would you want our living arrangements to be?”

Jake’s answer is immediate. “I’d really like to continue sleeping together. And meals. I really enjoy eating meals together. In general, I love spending time with you. But I like having my own space too.”

Tom sighs softly. “Jake…you need to decide if you want me in your room as a guest or if I’m sharing your room with you permanently. Otherwise, I won’t feel comfortable.”

That makes Jake frown. Making Tom uncomfortable is the last thing he wants. “I want you to be comfortable.”

“Then we gotta be really clear about what we want.”

That’s harder to put into words than Jake thought it would be and they drift around the pool side by side, gently kicking their way through the cool, chemically scented water while Jake thinks. Finally, he manages to put his thoughts into good enough order that he can present them to Tom. “I’ve really enjoyed sharing a space with you when we were living in your room all the time. I liked sharing a closet and having my toothbrush next to yours in the bathroom. I liked having your things on the coffee table next to my things.”

When Jake glances over at him, Tom smiles. “I love all that too. Would you want to do that in your room?”

Jake nods, struggling to hide his big smile. “Yes. Definitely. But only if you want that too. But I understand if you want to stay in your own room. Perhaps we can make a weekly schedule?”

Tom’s smile grows. “Not necessary. I love your room and I love being there. Having my work space be my home space never used to bother me until I spent more time at your place. I’ve really loved not having to always clean things up and hide away the things that gave my room personality before clients come over.”

Smiling, Jake’s feeling really good about the direction of this conversation. “You’d never have to hide anything away when it’s in my room. Well, except the sex toys. It’s not respectful to leave those lying around when Chesa’s cleaning.”

Chuckling, Tom smacks his hand into the water, sending a stream of water into Jake’s face, which leaves him sputtering. “Thanks, Seever. I do have a brain, you know.”

Laughing, Jake sends a splash of water back at Tom. “Sometimes I have my doubts.” He keeps his eyes closed because he knows another splash is coming and sure enough, cool water hits him in the face a second later. Once he’s wiped the water off his face, Jake glances at Tom and despite the jovial tone of the discussion, Jake still has some concerns. “If we’re living in my room together, when would we get privacy? I’m accustomed to living on my own and although I’ve grown to enjoy spending time with you, I still need some time on my own.”

Tom smiles. “Don’t worry about that. If you’re really okay being on your own again, I’m gonna start seeing more of my friends again. Plus, I’ll be going to my…office to prep for clients almost every day. You’ll have plenty of time to be on your own. Besides, it’ll take me a while to build up my client base again, so that means a lot of coffee dates.”

That last comment brings on a hint of guilt and anxiety again for Jake. “Do you think you’ve lost all of your clients?”

“Yeah, probably. But you can stop with that guilt right now. It was my choice to prioritize you over my clients. You didn’t force me to do it.”

That doesn’t make Jake feel any better.

Narrowing his eyes at him with a grin, Tom raises his hand, ready to send another wave of water at Jake. “You gonna stop feeling guilty or you need me to wash it out of your head for you?”

Jake makes a face. “I can’t help it. If I hadn’t let my OCD take over like that, you wouldn’t have lost your clients.”

“Yeah, and if that storm hadn’t damaged your parents’ plane, making it cash, none of this would have happened. So we can blame the storm for me losing my clients. But it’s not a big deal. In fact, I like the challenge of re-building my client list. It’s hard work, but I’m looking forward to it.”

Sighing, Jake stares at Tom for a long while. But when Tom keeps looking back at him, relaxed and happy, Jake allows himself to believe that this situation wasn’t his fault. But there’s one little thing he can’t let go of. “If any of your old clients tell you that you owe them some free sessions to make up for things, I insist on covering their costs.”

“Jake—”

Jake holds up his hand. “No. I’m not compromising on that. I feel that’s the right thing to do.”

Tom presses his lips together. “I don’t need that, but I actually do wanna talk about money related things.”

Closing his eyes and enjoying the cool water brushing his sides, Jake rests his chin on his arms. Finally, Tom’s being reasonable. “Just tell me what your bank account number is and I’ll transfer the money over. It won’t actually be a billion, since most of that’s tied up in the hotels and investments. But I have about $1.6 million in the account, so you can have half of that right now and I’ll get your name put on everything else. On paper, you’ll have the billion.”

“For the last damn time, I’m not taking your billion dollars, Seever. And that’s final,” Tom laughs. “I still can’t believe I’m in a situation where I’m having this conversation multiple times. And no, I don’t want the $800,000 either. But I _am_ worried about having to pay for my own…office as well as half the cost of your room. I can do it once I’m working regularly, but it’ll take me a while to build my savings back up.”

Frowning, Jake opens his eyes. “Why would you pay half the cost of my room? That’s ridiculous.”

“If your room’s gonna be my room too, then it’s not ridiculous. Paying my fair share of things is important to me.”

“I understand it’s important to you, but it’s not necessary.”

“I know you don’t need the money. But _I_ need to give you the money. In fact, I’m gonna talk to management to put my room charges back to my account. We don’t need to do a 50/50 split anymore since you’re not using my room anymore.”

Jake makes a face, hating all of this. It’s so silly that Jake has all the money he’ll ever need and here’s Tom, the love of his life, struggling to pay for things while Jake barely has to pay for anything. “I…Tom, that doesn’t sit right with me.”

“It’s not your fault that I’m self-employed. If I wanted to, I could work for an underground brothel or go back to working for an escort agency and they’d take care of all my expenses. But I wouldn’t be allowed to keep all the money I make. These are the drawbacks of being self-employed, but it’s something I’m willing to live with. Besides, I make a hell of a lot more money than you do when you’re working in the restaurant.”

“But I don’t have to make a lot of money at my job and I can still afford to live here for the rest of my life. I only earned a tiny percentage of the money that’s in my account and while that’s something I’m perfectly fine with, it still doesn’t make sense that your expenses will be so much bigger than mine.”

Tom gives him a long look. “Listen…if things keep working out well between us, then eventually we might want to make things official. Once that happens, then we can combine our accounts and we’ll stop tracking who makes what and whose expenses belong to who.”

That makes Jake’s eyes widen, because he realizes Tom’s talking about marriage. He can’t believe Tom is actually thinking about giving Jake the gift of staying with him for the rest of his life! But before he can examine it more closely, Tom’s holding up a hand. “Forget about that right now. We can talk about this again in a few years. But for now, I wanna be paying for my office and my half of our home.”

Sighing deeply, Jake nods. “Fine. I don’t like it, but I’ll accept it.”

“But the whole reason I brought this up is because my bank account is looking a bit pathetic these days. Can I get a loan to cover my costs for a couple of months?”

“Of course you can. Just tell me how much you need. Or better yet, I’ll just keep paying for both rooms for now. They’re both on my account anyway. You can tell me when you’re ready to do the switch.”

Tom smiles. “Thanks.” But then he narrows his eyes and shoots Jake a mock-glare. “But I’ll definitely be keeping track of the costs and I _will_ pay you back. It’ll just take a while.”

Chuckling, Jake rolls his eyes. “You know I don’t care about you paying me back, so I won’t be reminding you. That’ll be your responsibility.”

Laughing, Tom sends another splash of water at Jake. “You’re impossible.”

Blinking and wiping the water off his face, Jake grins at him. “Says the man who won’t take a cent from a billionaire without turning it into a loan. I’m not the crazy one here, Tom Carlson.”

“Oh, I’ll show you crazy.”

And moments later, Tom’s hand closes around Jake’s foot and drags him out of his tube and underwater and Jake barely manages to stop laughing before his head goes under and he’s wrestling Tom underwater.

* * *

Moving Tom’s clothes and belongings into Jake’s room feels wonderful and Jake can’t stop smiling whenever he peeks into his—their—closet and sees Tom’s clothes hanging next to his or their living room where both of their laptops live on the coffee table.

Tom spends a lot of time on the phone, trying to coax his former clients back and getting leads for potential new clients from his friends in the industry. He’s in and out of the hotel a lot, going on coffee dates to meet potential new clients or smoothing things over with former ones.

Seeing Tom putting so much effort into getting his career back on track makes Jake equally determined to get his own career moving again too. But before he can even consider speaking to Chef Mitra or looking for other opportunities, he needs to continue battling his OCD so it won’t interfere when he’s back in a professional kitchen. Today, he’s decided it’s finally time to plate a restaurant-quality dish but without using his ruler or any other measuring tools.

While Tom’s meeting with new clients, Jake spends time deciding what to make and he settles on spherical, glazed chocolate cheesecake. It’s a dish he’s made in the restaurant hundreds of times, but this will be the first time he’ll plate it without his ruler. To give himself the best possible chance at doing well, he spends Tom’s meeting planning out how he’ll plate the dish. Not the exact dimensions, but he wants a general idea of what he’ll be doing. Using that chocolate-drip technique on the plate that Tom had shown him in the video will be a great way to push his OCD.

The front door opens and Jake hears Tom coming in.

“Hey!”

Jake lowers his sketchpad and eagerly looks up as Tom comes wandering in. “How did it go?”

Tom’s smiling, so that’s great. He drops on the couch next to Jake and leans over to give him a kiss. “Great! They’re a couple so they’ll do sessions together.”

“What kind of activities do they want to do?”

Tom waves a hand. “Vanilla stuff. They wanna spit-roast me.”

Jake frowns at him, feeling alarmed because that doesn’t sound like a safe thing to be doing during sex. “Is that safe?!”

Laughing, Tom gives Jake a reassuring kiss. “There’s no actual roasting involved and there’s no metal implements. It means one of them is gonna fuck me from behind while the other fucks my mouth.”

Creating a mental image of that, Jake nods, feeling relieved. “I see. Now the name makes sense.” He raises his eyebrows at Tom. “I can’t believe you have the coordination to do something like that. I could focus on one part but not the other.”

Still chuckling, Tom relaxes against him. “It takes some practice, but once I get everybody into the same rhythm, it’s pretty easy.”

“So you’re going to accept them as clients?”

“Yep. They’re gonna be great. Really friendly, easy-going and I’m giving them a bit of a discount, even though there’s two of them.”

Smiling, Jake gently knocks his head against Tom’s, always feeling so proud when Tom mentions doing things that show off why he’s very good at his job. “Have I mentioned I love it when you act so casual about doing something complicated? And how you negotiate with clients? You always make sure you’re getting what you’re worth, but you’re smart about it.”

That makes Tom smile, his eyes shining. “You like that, huh?”

What Jake isn’t telling him is that it doesn’t only make Jake feel proud, but it also turns him on. He just really loves watching competent, professionals doing something they’re great at and Tom’s a shining example of it. “Yes.”

Tom’s smile is turning into a smirk and he slowly looks Jake up and down. “Me showing off gets you a bit hot, doesn’t it?”

Snorting with laughter, Jake takes a deep breath and struggles to stay in control. “I was mostly focused on how proud I am. But yes, it does turn me on a little bit. But anyway, don’t distract me with thoughts of how amazing you are because I have a plan I need to follow.”

His smirk disappearing, Tom nods, looking serious again. “Okay. What are we doing? Or is it a ‘you’ thing?”

“I would love your support, but if you’re busy then I—”

“I’m not busy. What are we doing?” Tom pulls the sketchpad closer to him and his eyebrows rise a bit. “You’re making your chocolate cheesecake dessert?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re using the dripping thing on the plates _and_ adding some crumble?!”

Hearing Tom saying ‘dripping thing’ and ‘crumble’ makes the panic flare to life in his gut, but Jake clenches his jaw and refuses to give in. “Yes. I don’t know if I’ll succeed, but I’m going to do my best.”

Nodding, Tom wraps his arm around Jake and squeezes his shoulder while giving him a hard kiss on the temple. “Okay. Ready whenever you are.”

Feeling Tom’s arm around him and how determined his voice sounds pushes that panic back and Jake gets off the couch, holding onto his sketchpad. Grabbing Tom’s hand, he leads them to the kitchen. Wearing his dad’s watch and holding onto the sketchpad and Tom, Jake’s armed with all of his tools and he’s ready for battle.

* * *

Making chocolate cheesecake is very simple, as is putting the mixture into the hemisphere silicon molds, smoothing off the tops with a knife and putting them into the freezer. Making the chocolate glaze goes very well too, as does making a bit of crumble using chocolate biscuits.

Tom’s responsible for the decorations. Normally, Jake would make some chocolate decorations that will be stuck into the top of each cake, but doing that without measuring and without a template would introduce a huge amount of stress. Tom had volunteered to make some chocolate decorations and he’s going to make every shape different and that makes Jake feel better. It’ll still be hard to put different things on each sphere, but knowing that they’re Tom’s decorations will make Jake more determined to do it.

Jake tempers the chocolate for him and once he’s put it into a piping bag, he leaves Tom with a parchment covered baking sheet to make whatever shapes his heart desires. Not wanting to cause himself extra stress, Jake deliberately doesn’t keep an eye on what he’s doing. Maybe he’ll be ready for that in a few months—or years—but definitely not today.

Once the cheesecake is frozen, he takes the mold out of the freezer and carefully peels the silicon off each half-sphere. Matching up two halves, he uses a bit of leftover cheesecake mixture to glue them together, smoothing his finger over the seam until he’s created four perfectly smooth spheres. Two for Tom, one for him and one for Chesa when she comes by tomorrow morning for cleaning and to play cards.

Tom stops piping chocolate as he stares in awe while Jake creates the spheres. “I never knew how you did that! I always thought you used a special spherical mold.”

Jake chuckles, smoothing cheesecake against the seam between two new halves. “Molds like that do exist, but it’s time consuming and unnecessary. This is much faster.”

Gently lifting each frozen sphere with forks, he puts them into the chocolate glaze and spoons the glaze over it until they’re nicely covered. Using the forks, he lifts out each glazed sphere—the glaze shining beautifully—and puts them on upturned glasses so the excess glaze can drip onto the baking tray they’re sitting on. Once the last ball is settled on its glass pedestal, Jake puts down the forks and that’s when his hands start shaking.

It’s time for plating.

Looking down at the four white, square plates next to him, he’s already feeling anxious. Normally, he’d have spent the freezing time carefully measuring out where to put each sphere on the plate and marking the future placement with a dot of chocolate glaze.

Now, the plates are blank. He’s not going to measure out where to put each sphere because he doesn’t have to put each of them in the same spot. They’ll be in the same general area on each plate, but they’ll probably be off by a few fractions of an inch and that’s how they’ll stay. But first, Jake has to prepare the plates. He needs to do the drip technique.

Putting some of the chocolate glaze into a piping bag, he holds the bag above the first plate, anxiety making his stomach clench. His hand’s already shaking as he stares down at the plate. He knows what he has to do. He has to squeeze a line of glaze down the center of the plate, then tilt the plate and let the glaze drip in whatever way it wants.

Taking a deep breath, he decides to just go for it. Piping out a line of glaze onto what he thinks is the middle of the plate, he makes sure the line is thick enough. Then he puts the bag down and picks up the plate and gently tilts it. The glaze takes a second to start moving before it’s flowing, streaks of it covering the left side of the plate. The glaze has decided to split into four streams and none of them are the same length. It looks fine, but Jake knows the battle will be doing the other three plates.

Once he’s put the first plate down, he pulls the second plate over and picks up the piping bag again. Staring down at the plate, that voice erupts in his head, wanting him to take out his ruler and measure the exact placement of the glaze line on the first plate so he can make sure he’s putting it into the exact same spot. Otherwise, it won’t look nice. It’ll be a disaster. The plate will look horrible.

No, no, no! It won’t look horrible. It’ll look beautiful. And nobody will care if the line is a tiny bit to the left or right from where the first plate’s glaze line is. Well, no. Jake will care. But he doesn’t want to. It doesn’t matter!

Clenching his jaw, he tightens his grip on the bag and forces his shaking hand to position the tip over the spot he wants to start. His heart’s racing and his eyes keep wanting to look at the first plate to compare, but he reaches over and shoves the first plate out of his eye line.

He can do this. He can make a restaurant quality plate without measuring every tiny thing on it and it’ll look beautiful and be perfect in its own way. While anxiety is still sending shivers up and down his back, Jake slowly squeezes the bag and draws the line of glaze down the center of the plate. His OCD flares to life immediately as it screeches complaints: the line isn’t in the same spot as on the first plate, it doesn’t start and end in the same place, it’s wrong, wrong, wrong. He should wipe it off, grab his ruler and start again.

Trying to ignore the screeching in his head, Jake puts down the bag and picks up the plate and tilts it. This time, the glaze decides to split into three streams, instead of four. Wipe it off, wipe it off, wipe it off! Quickly! It’s wrong, it’s horrible, it looks nothing like the first plate!

Feeling like he’s going to have a heart attack, Jake puts the plate down before he drops it. As he stares down at the two plates, he feels horrified at what he’s created. The second line is a little shorter than the first one had been. The length and thicknesses of the streaks are completely different. He can’t believe these are supposed to be the same dish! It’s wrong, they look horrible, he needs to wash them off and do it again.

His hands are shaking and he feels like he’s going to throw up as tears brim his eyes. Struggling to breathe, he closes his eyes so he can stop looking at the horrible plates. He clutches the edge of the counter, hating himself.

“Jake?”

Tears are starting to roll down his face and shivers are running through his entire body. “I can’t do this,” he whispers in a choked voice.

Immediately, Tom’s pulling him away from the counter and turning him around before he’s wrapping his arms around him and tangling his hand in Jake’s hair, holding him as Jake shakes and cries, that voice screaming in his head.

“You’re already doing it,” Tom whispers into his ear. “You hear me? You made two plates and they already look beautiful. Yes, they don’t look the same, but they don’t have to. They both look unique and beautiful.”

Jake clutches the back of Tom’s shirt, burying his face against Tom’s neck. “They don’t have to look unique. If I did it properly and measured, they’d look the same.” His voice is choked with tears.

“The drips wouldn’t look the same. It’s like the cake pops. You can’t control the dripping.”

“Then I sh-shouldn’t have used that tech-technique!” Jake bursts out, crying as he grips Tom’s shirt.

“The only reason you’re saying that is because your OCD is convinced they look horrible. But they don’t. I’m telling you that nobody would care that the streaks are different. The main point is that the technique is the same on both and the components you’re gonna put on the plates will be the same. That’s what’s important.”

“It fe-feels so wrong,” Jake chokes out.

Tom kisses his temple. “I know it does. But that’s something the OCD is telling you.”

“I don’t know how to tell it to shut up! It’s telling me the plates look different and it’s right! It’s telling me the streaks aren’t the same and that’s horrible and _I agree!_ ”

Tom gently steps back from Jake and touches his face with both hands, his eyes as devastated as Jake feels. But thankfully, when Tom starts to speak, his voice is as strong and determined as it always is when they’re battling Jake’s OCD. “You’re forgotten the new method you’re supposed to be using. Stop comparing the plates. Look at each plate and decide if you like how it looks.”

“I can’t!” Jake bursts out, still crying. “They’re right there, next to each other. Even if I try not comparing, it’s automatic.”

“Fine. We’ll do things different. Here—” Stepping away from Jake, Tom takes the two finished plates and slides them to the other side of the counter. “Do one plate at a time. Forget about the other ones. You know how you want to do the plating. Focus on one plate at a time and make that plate the best you can make it. But once you’re done with it, it’s done. Don’t compare it to the others; don’t fuss with it. When you’re finished and the plate is meeting the initial standards you set, it’s done.”

Jake blinks, his breathing still choppy from crying, but he thinks Tom’s onto something. That could work. That could actually work.

Stepping closer to the counter, he stares down at the two white plates that are still waiting for the glaze streaks. Tom’s right. If he does them one at a time, then he’s putting all of his concentration on one plate instead of wasting his time comparing it to the others. “That could work…” he mumbles.

“Let’s try it. If not, we’ll try something different.” A piece of paper towel appears in front of him and Jake takes it and wipes the tears off his face. The paper disappears from his grip and Jake struggles to slow his breathing. Now that the two plates have been removed from his eye sight, he does feel calmer. Just like with the cake pops where he’d completely forgotten about how much the sizing difference had bothered him once he’d started dipping, his OCD is leaving Jake’s earlier panic behind. Once again, it’s proving how easily it can shatter Jake into pieces and then act like nothing had happened.

“I hate this so much,” he whispers, his voice shaking. “I’m feeling calmer just because you took the plates away. It really doesn’t matter that they’re different. I don’t care. But ten seconds ago, I was a wreck.”

Tom wraps his arms around Jake and calmly rubs his stomach.

Taking a deep breath, Jake presses back against Tom’s reassuring weight and picks up the piping bag again. But this time, he only focuses on the white plate in front of him. He’ll do what Tom suggested. He knows he has to make a line of glaze down the center and tilt the plate to the left. It doesn’t matter how the other plates looked. It only matters how this plate looks.

Piping a line of glaze on the plate, he tilts it and watches the glaze break into four streams. His memory of the first plate tries interfering and he’s thinking about how long the four streams were on the first plate and how they compare to this one…but then he blinks hard and pushes those thoughts out of his head. That first plate doesn’t matter. It looked good, he’s happy with it and it’s in the past. He’s working on this plate and this is his priority. When the streaks have reached a point where he thinks the plate looks good, he sets the plate down. “I like how that looks.”

“I do too,” Tom mumbles quietly.

Before doing the fourth plate, Jake pushes the third plate to the other side of the counter, letting it join the others. Then he takes a deep breath and mentally pushes the third plate out of his mind. Time to focus on the last plate.

* * *

Tom’s having such a hard time not cheering every single time Jake forces his shaking hands to do another step that’s in direct conflict with what his OCD wants. Tom wants to pat Jake’s belly, squeeze him tight and cover him in kisses. But Jake needs every ounce of concentration and Tom’s role in this battle is to be Jake’s support, in whatever way Jake needs. So Tom keeps his breathing calm and only mumbles small encouragements when Jake starts to tense up and his breathing gets choppy.

It’s very slow going. After the fourth plate gets its glaze decoration, Jake pulls the first plate over and keeps all the others away. Using the forks, he slowly lifts the first cheesecake sphere and Tom sees his hands freezing as they hold the sphere suspended over the white plate.

Tom knows what Jake’s thinking about. If he puts the sphere in the wrong spot, moving it will leave random streaks of chocolate glaze on the plate and those wouldn’t look pretty. But spending time wiping the glaze might damage the other components that are already on the plate.

“You know where you want it to go. As long as you go slow, you can put it exactly where you want it to go,” Tom murmurs.

Jake’s breathing is shaky again and his hands aren’t completely steady, but he manages to put the sphere into the center of the plate, so half of it is on top of the glaze line where the streaks start. The glazed sphere is shining and Tom smiles as he stares at it, but he stays quiet.

Still trembling, Jake’s staring at the plate and Tom knows he’s fighting against his OCD. Not having measured to make sure the sphere is really in the exact center of the plate is something his OCD hates and Jake’s busy pushing those thoughts aside. After briefly closing his eyes, Jake opens them and deliberately pushes the plate to the others side of the counter, his hands shaking. Despite the war raging in his head, Jake pulls the second plate close to him and Tom’s smile grows even bigger. “You’re doing amazing.”

Putting the second sphere on the plate takes even longer and Jake’s shaking so much that he has to put the sphere down twice before he manages to make the journey to the plate and put it down. From Tom’s view, it looks like Jake put it in the exact same spot as the first sphere, but he knows Jake’s busy resisting the urge to get his ruler out and check. Jake makes a small sound of distress, but he slowly pushes the plate away from him.

Once all four spheres have been put on their plates, it’s time for the crumble. Once again, this will be a battle. Jake uses a normal spoon to scoop out a spoonful of crumble and puts it on the non-streak side of the plate, a little pile in the bottom left of the plate.

As usual, making the first one is easy, but when Jake’s doing the second one, he starts shaking again and whimpers softly, his hand shaking as it holds the spoonful crumble above the spot where he wants to put it. Getting the crumble off the spoon is a lot messier than the spheres had been. Some bits tumble off the pile and roll a little distance away.

Jake’s fingers twitch, as if he wants to put those little pieces back into the pile and Tom waits to see what he’ll do. Tom’s worried that if Jake starts fussing with the crumble pile, his OCD will grab that opportunity and he’ll start fussing with the pile even more and it’ll make the other piles more difficult to do. None of the crumbs had rolled too far away, so Tom thinks it looks fine.

Jake stands there, his shaking hands hovering over the plate for a long time. His breathing’s choppy and he’s making those small distressed sounds, as if he’s in physical pain. That’s not far from the truth.

“You can do this,” Tom tells him, tightening his arms around him. “The plate looks really good. If you really wanna move some of those crumbs, you can. But only if you think they don’t look good.”

“I…I want to move that big piece,” Jake whispers, his voice shaking. “But I’m scared that if I move that piece, I’ll want to make other changes.”

“You’re in control. If you decide that the big piece ruins the plate, then move it. But you’re not committing to anything else. Just because you make one change doesn’t mean you have to do anything else. You’re in control.”

Jake keeps trembling in his arms, his breathing picking up speed. Tom can tell the exact moment when Jake gathers his courage because he suddenly stiffens and lunges for the offending piece of crumble and nudges it back to join the rest of the pile. Then he yanks his hand back from the pile and pushes the plate away.

Grinning, Tom can’t resist the urge to kiss Jake’s neck. “Good job. That was great! Next one.”

It takes another twenty minutes to finish plating the four dishes. Adding the crumble is a battle for the remaining plates too, as is putting Tom’s chocolate decorations on top. Each decoration has a stem—as per Jake’s instructions—and Jake wants to pierce them into the top of each sphere so they’ll stand up.

To Tom’s surprise, Jake doesn’t comment on the different shapes that Tom had made, even though Tom’s piping skills leave a lot to be desired and he has some blobs of chocolate in places where blobs don’t belong. But Jake has a very hard time piercing the decorations into the top of each sphere, since he’s not measuring where the exact center of each sphere is.

His hands go back and forth with the decoration so much that they end up having to take a break and put the decorations and spheres into the fridge for a while because being clutched in Jake’s hands had made them start to melt and the spheres had also started to get too soft.

But they eventually make it through. They’re left with four beautiful, unique plates. Each of them looks gorgeous in their own way and all of them are the same, yet slightly different. Tom’s really enjoying looking at all four of them and appreciating how beautiful they look.

But Jake starts shaking as he looks at the four plates all next to each other and he lets out a low whine. “I need to stop looking at them. I’ll shove them all into the garbage. I can’t—I need to stop looking at them.”

Pulling away from Tom, Jake goes into the bedroom and Tom stops to put their hard work into the fridge before following him.

Jake’s lying on the bed, his eyes closed. He’s still pale and shaking, looking physically sick. Tom sits down next to him and gently rubs his stomach. “You did it. I know you feel horrible right now and you think it was a disaster, but you did it. You made four amazing looking desserts. Each of them could be served in the restaurant and you know it. You did that. Your OCD hated every step, but you did it.”

Jake slowly opens his eyes and stares up at him. “I love you so much,” he mumbles.

Smiling, Tom bends down and kisses him, rubbing their noses together. “I love you too. I’m so proud of you. And I know your parents would be too. You did amazing.”

“I don’t feel amazing. I’m exhausted, I feel sick and I think those plates are horrible and belong in the garbage.”

Tom nuzzles Jake’s face and covers it in soft kisses. “That sucked up a lot of your energy. Do you wanna have a nap? That’ll re-charge your batteries and then we can look at the plates again.”

Smiling and looking relieved, Jake nods. “I like that plan. Can you help me get undressed?”

“Of course.”

Tom helps Jake strip down and pulls his own clothes off before getting under the covers with Jake. Letting out a soft, relieved moan, Jake lies down on Tom’s chest and slings his leg over Tom’s, his warm weight settling against Tom as he relaxes.

Tom kisses the top of his head and pulls the blanket over them. “You did really great today. I’m so proud of you.”

“I don’t feel proud.”

“We’ll see how you feel when you wake up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recipe Link: [Spherical and Glazed Chocolate Cheesecake](https://www.howtocookthat.net/public_html/chocolate-cheesecake-recipe/)


	36. Chapter 36

When Jake wakes up from his nap, he feels a lot better. The pattern holds true and he no longer feels anxious about the four plates. He put the same components on each one, he put the components in roughly the same spot and he thinks they’ll look fine, as long as he focuses on each plate individually.

To make things easier, Tom orders them dinner and Jake watches television until dinner arrives. They eat, then it’s time for dessert.

Jake takes a deep breath before he pulls open the fridge. As soon as he sees the four plates sitting side by side on the fridge shelf, his eyes start jumping between them, searching for differences. That voice is humming in his head, insisting that Jake knows they’re different and wrong and it wants to torture Jake by making him find all the differences.

But Jake won’t do it. The plates are fine. Each of them has the same components, they’re going to taste great and he needs to focus on each plate individually. Deciding to stick to his new approach of dealing with the plates one at a time, he only pulls one plate out of the fridge and shuts it.

Staring down at the plate in his hand, he immediately feels less anxious. Not being able to compare it to the others means he’s not focusing on whether the placement of the cheesecake sphere, the length of the streaks or the position of the crumble is wrong or not. It looks really good and Jake finds himself smiling, feeling proud of it. Bringing it over to the dining table, he presents it to Tom with a flourish. “Here you go. One perfect plate of dessert.”

Tom grins up at him as Jake slides the plate in front of him. “I’m so damn proud of you.”

Smiling, Jake gently grabs Tom’s chin and kisses him. “I’m actually proud of myself too. I like the way the plate looks.”

Tom’s eyes are shining with pride. “You’re amazing. Now, go get your own dessert so we can dig in.”

Going back to the kitchen, Jake takes out another plate, but he doesn’t let himself compare it to the others. As he walks back to the dining table, he studies the plate in his hands and he really does like how it looks. The cheesecake sphere is perfectly round, the glaze is shining and the crumble and chocolate glaze streams on the plate makes the whole thing look great. He knows this is something he could serve in the restaurant with pride, and that means this day ended up being a success.

* * *

While Tom starts seeing his new clients and gets back into his normal work schedule—and takes back paying for his office—Jake pushes forward with his own career plans too.

He picks a different dessert each day but alternates the plating difficulty for them. At first, he only makes difficult desserts on the days when Tom can be there to support him and he works on simple things when he’s on his own. But after several days of practice, Jake gets more confident. He’s figured out how he needs to approach cooking and plating in order to keep his OCD in check and he knows what steps he needs to take when his OCD starts overwhelming him. When he’s ready, he starts tackling more restaurant-quality desserts on his own.

It’s very difficult. There are some days when Jake’s anxiety overwhelms him and he’s left shaking, feeling sick and angry. The urge to throw the plates into the garbage and start again with his ruler gets very strong and he needs to grab the photo of his parents that sits on the counter and walk into the living room, staring at the photo, rubbing his dad’s watch and telling himself what Tom would say if he were here.

“You can do this, Jake. You already started and you were doing so well. The plates are fine. Don’t compare them,” he’ll mumble to himself, staring at his parents’ encouraging smiles. “Are you happy with the plates? Yes, yes I am. Okay, so the plates are fine. They won’t go into the garbage. It’s the OCD that wants them to go into the garbage.”

Sometimes he needs to take a break and watch some television to calm down, but usually just walking away from the plates makes the anxiety fade to manageable levels.

When he becomes more accustomed to plating without his ruler, things get even easier. He knows he’s already done these techniques without his ruler and he’d been happy with the end results, so he just has to get over the anxiety that’s clutching his heart in that moment. But focusing on his dad’s watch, the photo on the counter and reciting Tom’s words to himself helps him calm down until he can resume working.

He always works on one plate at a time. Whatever plates he’s not working on get pushed to the side and he doesn’t allow himself to compare them. As he gets more accustomed to this new way of doing things, he no longer has to push the other plates to the other side of the counter because he can catch his eyes before they start jumping between the plates.

In general, Jake’s as thrilled with his progress as Tom is. It’s still a daily struggle, but he’s getting closer to returning to a professional kitchen. He still needs to work on his speed and he’ll need plenty more practice. Walking away from plating to calm down is fine when he’s in his own kitchen, but that’s not something he can do when he’s back on the line. Due to space constraints in the restaurant kitchen, he also can’t physically shove every single plate out of his eyesight, so he needs to keep practicing.

To Jake’s amusement and also annoyance, now that his OCD is fully focused on battling Jake in regards to plating, the OCD has decided to leave the silly line drawing issue behind. Jake no longer has any urge to draw lines and the 5025 line total that he’d left behind no longer bothers him. Once again, that proves to him how cruel the OCD is. Doing his lines really had been a pointless exercise that his OCD had used to torture him with, but the OCD never cared about the line total. That gives Jake even more confidence that his OCD is a controllable illness. He just needs to keep working hard and it’ll eventually fade into the background enough that Jake can ignore it as he lives his life.

It’s incredible how far he’s come in a short period of time. He remembers when he and Tom had made those cake pops and Jake had dissolved into a panicked ball of anger and devastation. Back then, the idea of Jake ever being able to go back into a professional kitchen without giving in to his OCD had seemed impossible. Now, it’s becoming a firmer reality each day.

As Jake continues to improve, he’s spending less time fighting his OCD so he finally has the ability to focus on what else is going on around him. That’s when he realizes how selfish he’s been in the last few months.

Yes, he’s been through a very difficult situation and he’d needed to focus purely on himself in order to survive. But he’s doing much better now and he realizes his relationship with Tom has gotten very lopsided. Tom’s never complained and it means the world to him that Tom loves him enough to make both of their lives revolve around Jake’s mental illness. But Jake feels his recovery is going very well and it’s definitely time to make their relationship equal again.

When Tom’s having a session with Spit-Roasting Couple, Jake decides it’s the perfect opportunity to get things back on track. He’s very proud of Tom for working so hard to build his new client list and he also knows that Tom always comes home from his sessions with Spit-Roasting Couple feeling smug and horny. He decides he’s going to give Tom a series of treats, incorporating all of Tom’s favorite things: Jake, chocolate and sex.

To start with, he makes Tom a bouquet of chocolate strawberry roses. After washing and hulling a bunch of strawberries, he makes a bowl of tempered white chocolate. Taking out a bunch of the cake pop sticks that he and Tom have used multiple times over the last two weeks, he dips the tip of one stick into the white chocolate and picks up a strawberry…

…and right on cue, his OCD flares up, demanding that Jake measure the strawberry so he’ll make sure he’s putting the stick into the center of the cut strawberry top.

“No. The flowers will look great without measuring. The sticks don’t have to be in the exact center. I’ll do my best to center them, but measuring isn’t required. Be. Quiet.”

But it won’t be perfect. They’ll look awful. They’ll—

Jake closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, feeling his dad’s watch on his wrist. “Be. Quiet. The flowers will be fine.”

Opening his eyes and ignoring the clench of anxiety in his gut, Jake slides the tip of the stick into the strawberry and puts it into a tall glass so the chocolate can set and seal the stick into the strawberry. Keeping his jaw clenched and taking one shaky breath after another, Jake picks up another stick, dips it into the chocolate and picks up another strawberry and slides it in.

Once all the strawberries are done, he sorts them into two groups. One group are the nice, cone-shaped ones that will form the flowers. The rest will just be decoration. His OCD insists that Jake measure every single cone-shaped strawberry and cut more from the bases so they’ll all be the exact same height, but Jake refuses. The cone-shaped strawberries get dipped fully into the white chocolate but the misshapen strawberries are harder because Jake only wants to dip the tip into the chocolate so some of the beautiful red of the strawberries are still visible. As he dips each one, his OCD screeches at him that he’s not dipping them at the exact same depth and they all look different, but he keeps breathing and dipping and sternly telling the voice to shut up.

Preparing the pedals is another fight. He prepares some modeling chocolate in both white and brown, which goes smoothly. For each rose, he pinches off a few little bits of chocolate. All but one get rolled into small balls and the last one turns into a skinny chocolate snake. Even making the little balls is difficult because his OCD is constantly comparing them. It’s a struggle, but Jake keeps breathing steadily, glances at his parents’ photo and focuses on one ball at a time.

When all the components are ready, he covers them with another piece of parchment and uses a rolling pin to flatten the balls and the snakes. The snakes will form the center of each rose and he carefully rolls up half of the flat snake. Cutting off the bottom half of the rolled up portion, he sticks the rolled up piece onto the tip of one of the fully-covered white chocolate strawberries and carefully wraps the rest of the flat chocolate around the tip, creating a nice looking center.

His OCD continues sending shivers of anxiety up and down his back as he works, telling him he needs to measure this and that and none of them look the same and they belong in the garbage and on and on and on. But Jake keeps breathing, keeps reminding himself that they look fine, he’s happy with them and he just needs to keep going.

Once the centers have been added to each rose, it’s time to wrap the pedals around them. To make things a bit more difficult for himself, he deliberately made a few more pedals for some of the roses so they’ll be bigger than the others. After wrapping each chocolate pedal around the strawberry, he gently folds back the tops of each pedal, creating very nice looking roses. He focuses on one rose at a time and makes sure each rose looks pretty, even if he knows it doesn’t look identical to the others.

As his bouquet slowly grows, Jake’s paying less attention to his OCD’s silly demands and spending more time smiling at his roses. They really do look great and he knows Tom will love them.

He’s a little tired by the end of it due to how taxing the mental battle with his OCD always is, but he’s very excited to finish Tom’s present. Calling down to the front desk, he asks them to bring him to some clear cellophane, gold wrapping paper and a red ribbon. Once they arrive, he carefully builds his bouquet, alternating the roses with the half-dipped strawberries and wraps the cellophane and gold wrapping paper around them and ties the red ribbon around it.

Stepping back from it, Jake grins down at his creation. It looks gorgeous and despite each of the roses looking different, that gives the bouquet character. As usual, every concern that his OCD had brought up during the creation process is now a distant memory.

Putting the bouquet into the fridge, Jake gets started on making dinner. Due to Jake’s other plans, Tom will be very distracted when he comes home and they’ll be eating later so Jake makes lasagna, which can be stored in the fridge until it’s time to eat. He constantly checks the time to make sure he’s on track, and when he’s done cleaning the kitchen and Tom will be home in about fifteen minutes, it’s time to start on the next phase of his plan.

For that, he needs the bedroom, lots of lube and his favorite dildo.

* * *

Sliding his room key into the slot, Tom opens the door and walks inside. “Hey. I’m home.”

Saying that still makes Tom smile, even though he and Jake have been officially living together for two weeks now. He’s spent so much time in Jake’s room that he thought officially living with him wouldn’t make a difference, but it does. It’s so nice to know that this is his home now and he’s not just a guest in Jake’s home. Living here with Jake has also made Tom realize how big of a difference it makes to have a space that’s truly his home, versus switching his own room back and forth between being his work space and his home. He’d always felt like a temporary visitor in his own room and now, he finally has a home. His jacket is hanging on the hooks by the door, his stuff is cluttering up the bathroom counter and his favorite cereal bowl sits in the drying rack next to the kitchen sink. Best of all, Tom will never have to hide these things away again.

Stuffing his key card into his pocket, he wanders into the main area of the room, frowning as he looks for Jake. He can smell that Jake had cooked something, but the kitchen’s spotless and there’s nothing on the dining room table.

Just as he’s about to call out for Jake again, he hears a moan coming from the bedroom. Recognizing the sound as a sexy moan, Tom grins and saunters over to the bedroom, where he finds Jake, who’s definitely too busy to have replied to Tom’s greeting.

Jake’s naked, sprawled out on the bed, his feet planted on the bed as he thrusts a thick dildo into himself, his hole glistening with lube. He’s hard and gasping for breath, letting out soft moans as he fucks himself with one hand while his other fists his cock, shiny from lube.

The sight immediately sends a jolt of heat through Tom, despite having had sex less than an hour ago. Staring at Jake fucking himself with the dildo makes his own ass clench, his hole still loose from being vigorously fucked a short while ago.

“Well, I can see why you were too busy to say hi,” Tom murmurs, casually strolling into the room and standing beside the bed, staring down at Jake and drinking him in.

A bright smile lights up Jake’s face and he pants up at Tom, his eyes shining. “As you—oh—as you can see, I’m in the middle of som-something.”

Tom grins down at him and he’s overcome with joy at seeing Jake like this. Being turned on is actually the least important emotion he’s feeling.

Just half a year ago, Jake had felt extremely uncomfortable with intimacy and he’d treated sex as a clinical activity that he enjoyed but he’d never felt comfortable enough to turn it into casual fun. Over the months, Jake has gotten very comfortable with casual intimacy but he rarely initiates sex. The fact that Jake clearly planned this and he’s having fun is wonderful. Making the whole thing even better is that Jake looks incredible. It’s not just his pose that’s appealing, but Jake’s gained back all the weight he’d lost and he’s even put on muscle that he hadn’t had before, a result of them working out together several times a week. Jake looks gorgeous, healthy and happy and Tom can’t stop smiling as he stares down at him.

“H-how was work?” Jake mumbles.

“Work was great.”

Tom still can’t get over how matter-of-factly Jake treats his job. Jake’s attitude towards Tom’s profession is something he’s never found in a partner before and he never thought he ever would. Back when Jake had insisted that he truly doesn’t have issues with Tom’s job and that he regards Tom’s work the same way he regards his own, he’d been skeptical that Jake’s attitude would last long. He’d been sure that jealousy or moral judgment would override Jake’s desire to be accepting, but that hasn’t happened. Not even a hint of it.

“You had f-fun being spit—spit roasted?”

Tom laughs as he sits next to Jake. “Oh, yeah. I’m getting to know both of them now and I got my rhythm and timing just right and they nearly came at the same time. They were both really happy with that.”

Jake’s eyes are shining with pride. “I’m happy th—they appreciate the good qu-quality of service they’re getting.”

Chuckling, Tom keeps staring at Jake, eagerly drinking in how happy and healthy he looks, while also loving how proud Jake is of him.

Jake lets out a soft whine and his eyebrows furrow a bit as he slightly changes the angle of the dildo, his movements speeding up as he works his cock faster. Tom knows he’s getting close. “You need a hand?”

That makes Jake’s smile grow even brighter and he lets out a breathy chuckle. “If you’re n-not too busy.”

Bending down, Tom nuzzles Jake’s face as he pants warm breaths against Tom’s cheeks. “I’m never too busy for you, especially when you’re being naughty.”

Jake laughs, sounding delighted and Tom knows this is exactly why Jake did all this. On the scale of naughty sexual behavior, this might not be high on Tom’s personal scale, but it’s something completely new for Jake and it means so much to him that Jake thought about how to surprise him and give him a nice treat. Sitting up and taking off his shirt, Tom glances down at him. “What would you like assistance with?”

Jake arches his back a bit, pushing his chest up as his hands slow their movements on his cock and the dildo. “My ni-nipples feel a bit neglected.”

Grinning, Tom can’t hold it in and kisses Jake hard, knowing Jake mentioned his nipples specifically because of how much Tom loves sucking on people’s nipples. “Fuck, I love you, Jake Seever,” he mumbles against his lips as Jake laughs and pants, his body trembling as his eyes shine.

Staring at Jake’s pretty little nipples, heat simmers through Tom and he bends down and seals his lips around one nub, moaning as he suck on it and massages it with his lips. Jake whines happily and his hand starts working his cock again, but his other hand has fallen onto the mattress.

While Tom happily sucks and gently nibbles on Jake’s nipple, he reaches down and finds the dildo that’s slowly sliding out of Jake. Grabbing it, he slides it back into Jake, who lets out a choked sound. Moving to Jake’s other nipple, Tom flicks his tongue against it before pulling it into his mouth, sucking gently as he thrusts the dildo into Jake, setting a nice rhythm for him. His own cock is stiffening, arousal shooting through him as he listens to Jake making wonderful sounds, his entire body trembling as he works his cock and happily loses himself in pleasure.

Jesus, Tom can’t believe he gets to have this. He can’t believe that out of all the people Jake Seever could have chosen, he chose Tom. Every day that Tom gets to spend with Jake feels like winning the lottery over and over again, but instead of winning money, Tom wins buckets of happiness. Technically, he won money too, but that’s something he rarely thinks about. If he ever had to choose between Jake’s money and Jake, that’s not a choice Tom w ould have to think about.

“I—oh—hard—harder. Please,” Jake gasps and Tom happily obliges, lifting his head from Jake’s glistening nipples so he can tighten his grip on the dildo and fuck him harder.

Jake braces his feet on the bed and fucks himself on the dildo, meeting Tom’s thrusts as he works his cock in fast strokes, his eyes sliding closed as he pants and moans.

“That’s it,” Tom mumbles. “You’re so close, aren’t you? You’re being such a naughty boy, putting on a nice show for me when you knew I was gonna come home, huh? Fuck, I’m so damn hard. You have no idea how gorgeous you look. Lemme see you come.”

When Jake’s body seizes up and he comes, Tom’s so turned on that he nearly comes in his pants, but he manages to hold himself back as he fucks Jake through his orgasm as his cock spurts cum all over his stomach and chest.

Once he’s done, Jake collapses, breathing hard and staring up at Tom with half-lidded eyes, still smiling happily. “That was great,” he mumbles.

Gently pulling the dildo out of him, Tom grins and snags a handful of tissues from the bedside table and wipes Jake clean. “Thank you for such a lovely welcome home present.”

That makes Jake’s smile grow. “Oh, that was just the first part of your present.” Jake’s eyes drift down to Tom’s pants, where his aching cock is pressing against the fabric.

Smiling, Tom tosses the tissues on the table and deliberately squeezes his stiff cock through his pants, moaning at how good it feels. “You got more naughty plans, Seever?”

Jake licks his chapped lips and slowly pushes himself up. “Oh, yes. But I need some water first. You take off your pants and sit on the edge of the bed.”

Hearing Jake directing him when it comes to sex is an incredible turn-on and Tom can’t stop smiling as he takes off the rest of his clothes and sits on the edge of the bed, following Jake’s instructions. He can’t get over how confident and happy Jake is and it’s wonderful.

Jake goes out into the kitchen presumably to drink water and when he’s back, he’s still grinning, but he looks a little nervous.

Leaning back on his elbows, Tom smiles up at him. “What’s with that nervous look? Get over here.”

But Jake stays where he is, chewing on his lip and a small frown on his face. “I’d like to suck your cock.”

That makes Tom’s eyebrows rise. While he sucks off Jake all the time, having Jake reciprocate is something they haven’t done since Tom had taught Jake how to give head during their sessions, back when Jake had still been his client. It’s never been one of Jake’s favorite things to do and Tom’s never pushed him about it. Some people love giving head, others don’t and that’s fine. “You know you don’t have to. I get my cock sucked all the time.”

Jake still looks nervous, but also determined. “I know that, but I enjoyed doing it when you were teaching me. It’s purely my lack of experience that’s making me nervous, and I don’t like that. I want to become more proficient at it and add it into our normal routine.”

Tom smiles. “Okay. How do you wanna do this? Do you want me to give direction or do you wanna do your own thing?”

Stepping closer to Tom, Jake’s staring down at Tom’s cock, frowning and probably already formulating a plan. “I’d like to do it on my own. I want you to enjoy yourself and turning it into a lesson will mean it’s work.”

It seems they’re back to this old debate. “Was it work when you taught me how to make chocolate mousse?”

Jake makes a face. “I see your point, but I want this to stay a nice and relaxing evening. I’d like to try doing it on my own.”

There’s a hint of worry in Tom’s gut because he knows how easily Jake can push himself and turn something fun into a difficult chore that he feels he has to suffer through. “Okay, but if you’re not enjoying yourself, then I’m gonna stop cause I want this to stay a nice and relaxing evening too.”

Nodding, Jake seems on-board with that plan, which is another surprising development. “I agree. It’s a marathon, not a sprint.”

Hearing his own words being echoed back at him makes Tom grin, since that’s not how Jake used to do things. Everything he does usually has to be done perfectly right then and there, but it seems that Jake is slowly easing up on himself now that he’s seeing that he’ll get better results that way. “You’re just full of surprises today, huh?”

That makes Jake smile. “It’s all your fault. You’re a horrible influence.”

Tom shrugs. “Do I care? Nope. Not in the slightest.”

Laughing, Jake pulls open the bedside table drawer and takes out a condom. “Enjoy your wise-cracking now because in a few minutes, you won’t be able to string two words together.”

Fuck, Tom loves Jake’s newfound confidence. Part of it must be coming from battling and winning against his OCD on a daily basis, but Tom likes to think that another part of it is because Jake’s truly comfortable with him and their relationship now. He can’t stop comparing this Jake to the one who had been so hesitant and unsure when they’d kissed for the first time in Tom’s room and Jake had been overwhelmed with anxiety over every tiny movement.

Jake kneels down between Tom’s feet and grins up at him as he opens the condom and slides it over Tom’s cock. Just having Jake doing it sends a surge of heat through Tom and he has to take a deep breath so he doesn’t come right away. This is yet another sign of Jake’s growing confidence and it’s very hot to see.

Making himself comfortable on the floor, Jake gently squeezes Tom’s cock and leans forward, licking long stripes up his length, which makes Tom moan softly. Jake’s tongue is so warm and it feels amazing, despite the condom being between them. That moan seems to give Jake another boost and he squeezes and fists Tom’s cock a few times as he licks his lips before pulling Tom’s cock down a bit and carefully sliding his lips over the head.

A jolt of arousal slams through Tom and he has to clench his hands into the bed sheets so he doesn’t grab Jake’s head. “Fuck, that feels good,” he breathes out, his voice already shaking.

Jake pulls off long enough to grin up at him, looking happy and very pleased with himself before wrapping his lips around Tom’s cock again. He suckles gently on the head, his tongue pressed against the side and Tom can’t stop staring down at him, struggling to keep breathing.

Slowly, Jake gets more comfortable and slides his lips a little further down, but he stays shallow so he doesn’t gag. He settles into a nice rhythm, sucking on the head of Tom’s cock and rubbing his tongue against the ridge right below the head as his hand slowly squeezes and rubs the rest of it.

“You’re doing so good,” Tom whispers. “It feels so good. Fuck, you look incredible.”

Jake glances up at him, his eyes shining. He looks so happy, kneeling on the floor and gently suckling on Tom’s cock. Tearing one of his hands off the sheets, Tom gently tangles his hand into Jake’s dark curls, not pulling, just holding onto him. Feeling Jake’s head slowly bobbing up and down and shifting as he sucks on the head of Tom’s cock makes the whole thing feel even hotter and Tom thinks he might die.

Jake keeps going for a while before he eventually pulls off, shifting his jaw and stretching his neck. “How was that?”

Tom lets out a shaky chuckle. “Awesome.”

Rolling his eyes with a half-smile, Jake stands up. “It was an amateur effort, but I think it’s a good first step.”

Tom wraps his legs around Jake and pulls him into his arms as Jake laughs. Grinning at him, Tom drops back on the bed, holding Jake tight with his arms and legs as he nuzzles Jake’s face with his nose. “It was awesome and I loved it. Was it the best blow job I’ve ever had from a technical perspective? No. But it’s going down in history as one of my favorites of all time.”

Jake’s back to smiling and he kisses Tom, sighing as he melts against him. Feeling Jake’s warm, naked body pressing against his cock makes his arousal light up again and he thrusts up against Jake as he deepens their kissing, slipping his tongue into Jake’s mouth and tangling his hands into his hair.

But surprisingly, Jake pulls back, smiling down at him. “I had more naughty plans, Carlson. You’re disrupting them.”

Laughing, Tom splays out his arms and legs on the bed. “We can’t have that. I apologize. Please, go ahead with your naughty plans.”

Jake climbs off him and grabs the lube from the table. “Slide up so you’re comfortable on the pillows and spread your legs.”

Jesus, having Jake giving him orders in the bedroom is really hot. “Yes, sir.”

Once Tom is comfortable and his feet are braced on the bed, Jake climbs between them, slicking up his fingers with lube. Tom’s a little confused about it because Jake hasn’t gotten hard again, but Jake clears up the confusion when he wiggles his shiny lube-covered fingers at him. “I remember you told me a long time ago that you could probably come from me fingering you, so I’d like to see if you were right.”

A sudden jolt of arousal shoots through him and Tom has to grab his cock from coming. He’s always loved Jake’s fingers and he knows without a doubt that he can come from getting fucked by them. Staring down at Jake’s hand, Tom’s overcome with so many different emotions.

Jake’s fingers are so damn talented. They make gorgeous desserts that people come from all over the world to eat and pay ridiculous prices for. But those fingers had also been horribly abused by Jake’s OCD. He remembers how swollen and cut up they’d looked, wrapped in filthy bandages when Tom had found Jake in his room. It had taken Jake weeks until the pain in his hands stopped and he could start using his hands again. Since then, those same fingers have been waging a steady war against Jake’s OCD, determined not to fall victim to it again.

Jake’s fingers have his entire history and his struggles written on them and having those strong, talented fingers that had survived such horrible abuse inside of him is so hot that Tom’s already shaking and struggling not to come. “Jake…I’m probably gonna come before you even get your fingers into me.”

Laughing, Jake slides closer to Tom and rubs those amazing, slick fingers over his loose hole. “We can’t have that. I have a naughty plan to carry out. It seems time is of the essence, so I better get to it. Thankfully, Spit-Roasting Couple did all the prep work for me.”

Tom laughs. “I’ll be sure to pass on your appreciation when I see them next week.”

“That would be kind of you.”

The smartass comment that Tom wanted to send back ends up completely flying out of his head when Jake slides two of those amazing fingers into him. Tom clenches around his fingers, shaking and so incredibly turned on at having Jake’s fingers inside of him. It suddenly occurs to him that nobody else gets to have this. Jake’s never put his fingers into such an intimate part of another human being, just Tom. While others have to pay a lot of money just for the privilege of eating a dessert prepared by Jake’s hands, Tom doesn’t just get to eat those desserts for free, but he gets to be fucked by those fingers for free too.

Shaking, Tom tangles his hands into the sheets and thrusts down against Jake’s fingers; those incredible fingers that have survived such terrible abuse and come out the other end, stronger, more confident and doing things they’ve never had the courage to do before.

Jake thrusting his fingers into him, meeting the rhythm Tom is setting, but then he presses down on Tom’s hips. “Let me do it. Please.”

With difficulty, Tom lowers his hips and whines, so desperate for more. Luckily, Jake takes over and fucks him harder.

“Fuck, that—oh—fuck, that’s amazing,” Tom gasps out.

“You like my fingers fucking you, huh? My talented, amazing fingers.”

Tom realizes Jake’s using the same wording that Tom usually uses and that sends another surge of heat through him. God, he loves how far Jake’s come.

Eventually, Jake slows his thrusts and begins curling his fingers inside of him. Tom knows he’s searching for his prostate and he freezes, tense and waiting until Jake’s fingers brush past that little nub and Tom lets out a shout from the jolt of arousal that slams through him.

“There?”

“Ye-yeah. Fuck, yeah.”

Glancing down at Jake, Tom sees him frowning and staring off into space, full of concentration as his fingers gently rub and slide inside Tom, searching for it again. Jake’s devoting every ounce of concentration to getting his amazing fingers to make Tom feel as good as possible while he fingers his ass and damn, Tom will never get over that.

Then Jake finds that little nub again, but his fingers freeze when he finds it. “There you are. I’m not letting you get away again.” And he gently rubs the tips of his fingers over it again and again and again, sending waves of intense arousal through Tom that shiver all the way down to his toes.

Tom’s shaking like a leaf and letting out choked cries. He’s never been this turned on in his entire life. There are actual tears streaming down his face and his toes are curled up. He can barely breathe.

After spending ages stroking Tom’s prostate, Jake changes the position of his fingers, sliding a bit away before coming back and pressing against it. He does three short jabs, following by a longer, hard press that makes Tom let out noises he’s never made before in his life. His eyes are squeezed shut and his entire world consists of just Jake’s fingers in his ass, lighting up his body in wave after wave of intensity and heat. One, two, three short jabs, then a long, delicious press that makes Tom mewl and gasp and shake. One, two, three…a long, earth-shaking press.

Eventually, Jake goes back to rubbing his prostate, but this time, his touch is much firmer and he never gives Tom a break, making him spiral higher and higher until Tom thinks he’s going to pass out. Jake just keeps rubbing, rubbing, rubbing until Tom’s pushed over the edge and he’s coming harder than he ever has in his life.

* * *

When Tom opens his eyes, he’s lying on Jake’s chest, the blanket pulled up his back. Groaning, he rubs his face on Jake’s chest and chuckles. “Jesus.”

Jake rubs his back. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, I’m better than alright. I’ve never come that hard in my life.” He braces himself on his elbows and smiles down at Jake. “That was amazing.”

Grinning, Jake looks very happy. “I can’t believe that went so well.”

“I definitely have a thing for your fingers. And the rest of you.”

Chuckling, Jake leans up and kisses him softly. “My naughty plan is working out very well.”

Lying down on the pillow next to Jake, Tom slings his leg over Jake and rubs his chest. “So, I have absolutely no complaints, but I’m curious why you’re doing all this. It’s not my birthday any time soon and I didn’t do anything special lately.”

Jake frowns. “You’ve been doing a lot of special things lately. One of those special things is related to the final part of my plan. But that’s all beside the point. I realize I haven’t been the best boyfriend lately.”

Tom shoots him a look. “Don’t be ridiculous. You nearly died and you’ve been through hell. It took all of your concentration to survive and then recover. I haven’t been feeling neglected.”

“Maybe, but I’m not happy with how things have been. I’m doing much better now and I want to be a better boyfriend. Not just because it’s what you deserve, but it’s something I genuinely want to do.”

That makes Tom’s frown fade and he rubs his nose against Jake’s before kissing him. “You won’t hear any complaints from me.”

Smiling, Jake sighs softly. “Good. Are you hungry?”

It’s a lot later than he usually eats dinner, but Tom’s starving. “Yeah. I smelled something good in the kitchen but you hid all the evidence.”

Pushing himself up with a laugh, Jake gets out of bed and heads to the closet to pull out some clothes. “Get some clothes on and I’ll go set the table.”

Sliding out of bed, Tom grabs a pair of sweatpants and a shirt and follows Jake out into the main room as they pull on their clothes. While Jake’s setting the table, he points at the wine fridge. “Will you get the wine? We’re having lasagna.”

“Yup.” Tom chooses an appropriate wine, pours them two glasses and they settle at the table, eating Jake’s delicious lasagna.

While he’s scraping his fork over his plate to get every last bit of sauce, Tom glances at Jake. “So what did you spend the afternoon doing? Asides from planning out naughty, sexual escapades?”

Jake laughs and wipes his mouth with his cloth napkin. “Oh, you’ll see. Let’s get this cleaned up and I’ll show you dessert. But don’t peek into the fridge.”

Once they’ve cleaned up dinner, Jake surprises Tom by asking him to go over to the couch to wait for his dessert. Unless Jake’s really tired, he doesn’t like not eating at a table, so that’s unusual.

Tom obediently goes to sit on the couch and anxiously waits. Jake finally appears, holding a gold wrapped bouquet of flowers. That makes Tom grin, but he’s also confused. “Flowers? Aww, that’s so sweet, Seever.”

Jake laughs. “I appreciate you making the effort to stay polite, despite being confused. I promised you dessert and I wasn’t lying.”

He’s cradling the bouquet in his arms and when he holds it out, Tom reaches up and carefully takes the wrapped bundle from him. It’s a beautiful bouquet of different colored roses and some other bulb-shaped flowers that Tom can’t identify. But all the pieces fall into place when Tom looks closer at the bundled flowers on his lap and realizes they’re made out of chocolate. “Oh, my God! They’re made out of chocolate!”

Laughing and sounding delighted with himself, Jake sits down next to him and wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Yes. They’re strawberry covered roses. Well, not all of them are roses. The strawberries that weren’t the right shape just became extra decoration.”

Tom stares at the flowers in awe. They look incredibly realistic and beautiful, but he can tell how much work had gone into this. Jake’s casual comment about some strawberries not being the right shape but still having made it into the bouquet is a huge deal. As is the fact that none of the roses look exactly the same. Jake has deliberately made some of the larger than others. But each one has been made with loving care and the way he’d carefully arranged them and tied them into the cellophane and gold wrapping paper tells Tom that Jake’s as proud of these chocolate flowers as Tom is.

“Jake…this is amazing,” he mumbles.

Jake lets out a soft breath. “My OCD didn’t think so, but I agree with you.”

Tom gently knocks his head against Jake’s. “Did it put up a big fight?”

“Surprisingly, not really. It tried, but I put a stop to it each time. I’m getting much better at controlling it and keeping it in check. I’m very happy with how the bouquet turned out.”

Smiling, Tom turns his head and kisses Jake. “I love them. They’re beautiful and I can’t believe you made these for me.”

Jake’s smiling against his lips as he keeps kissing him. “I’m very proud of how quickly you re-built your client base and I wanted to make something to congratulate that effort. Making chocolate flowers seemed like a perfect fit.”

Hearing Jake’s praise makes Tom smile and he feels that warm glow spreading through him as he always does when Jake does something to demonstrate how much he loves him. Making the whole thing even better is that Jake’s happy that Tom takes pride in his work and Jake is fully aware of what that work is, yet his pride and acceptance are completely genuine. Jesus, he can’t believe how lucky he is. “Thank you. I love them and I love you.”

Still smiling, Jake kisses him and rests his forehead against Tom’s. “You’re welcome. I love them too and I love you too.”

Gently putting the flowers on the coffee table, Tom twists on the couch and puts his hands on Jake’s face, kissing him some more. “That makes this a perfect day,” he whispers.

Chuckling, Jake wraps his arms around Tom’s back, a cocky smirk on his face, which is another new thing Tom hasn’t seen from him before. “And I do appreciate that you think kissing me is better than eating chocolate. I thought you would have started devouring the flowers already, but you swapped the flowers for me. I feel very smug about that.”

Laughing, Tom pulls Jake closer. “I’ll take you over chocolate or anything else in the entire world. Any day, any time. Doesn’t matter if it’s right now or fifty years from now. My answer’s always gonna be the same.”

Sighing happily, Jake licks Tom’s lips, deepening the kiss and melting against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recipe Link: [Chocolate Strawberry Roses](https://youtu.be/7xoeJd2dyeE)


	37. Chapter 37

The next morning, Jake’s relaxing on the couch with Tom after breakfast, watching his favorite soap opera as Tom’s texting on his phone with one hand and eating a chocolate strawberry rose with the other.

As usual, the soap opera does a good job of pulling Jake in while it’s playing, but the commercials leave him with plenty of time to think. He thinks he’s ready to go back to work. Whenever he thinks about it, his stomach clenches with anxiety and his doubts start badgering him, but focusing on all of that is foolish. At this point, he doesn’t even know if he has a position in the hotel’s kitchen to go back to. If he has to look elsewhere for work, that will take time. Sitting here and being anxious over what might happen in the future is silly. If he stays stuck here, he’ll have his anxiety and nothing else. “Tom?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m going to speak to Chef Mitra about getting my job back.”

Tom puts down both his phone and the chocolate rose. “Yeah?”

Jake keeps his eyes glued on the television screen, watching a shaving commercial. “Yes. I feel anxious about going back to work, but I want to know what my future prospects will be. If I don’t have a position at the hotel’s restaurant, I’ll have to look elsewhere and weigh my options.”

Tom makes an affirmative noise. “Okay. And I just wanna point out that if you gotta move somewhere farther away to find a job you’ll like, I have no problem moving. As long as we’re in an urban center, we can have the lifestyle we both enjoy and I’ll be able to find clients.”

Raising his eyebrows, Jake stares at him. Moving isn’t even something he’d considered—which makes another flare of anxiety burst to life in his gut—but hearing Tom’s reassurance that he’d go with Jake is wonderful. “Really?”

Tom nods and takes another bite of chocolate covered strawberry. “Yep. The only things that matter to me is being with you and being in a place where we can keep having the lifestyles we like. But that leaves a ton of options. So if Chef Mitra doesn’t have good news, I don’t want you freaking out because you think I’ll react badly. I really don’t care if we live here, the other side of the country or even the other side of the world. I know you care and we’ll deal with that when we get to it. But I’m fine.”

Smiling at the warm glow that’s replacing the anxiety, Jake sighs softly. “Thank you. That means a lot to me. It also makes me feel better about talking to Chef.”

Tom’s gone back to looking at his phone and eating his rose, a smile on his lips. “I’m in this for the long haul, Seever. Don’t worry about that.”

Repeating Tom’s words to himself, Jake sets up a meeting with Chef Mitra and heads down to her office by the kitchen when it’s time. His stomach is tied up in knots, but Tom’s words and wearing his dad’s watch are helping to keep him calm. There’s no reason to get anxious about the future when he doesn’t even know what that future holds.

Chef Mitra looks very emotional when Jake knocks on the door and steps into her office. “Jake. It’s very good to see you.”

Smiling, Jake shakes her hand. “Likewise, Chef.”

She lets out a long breath as she gestures for him to have a seat across from her desk. “We were all very worried about you.”

Making a face, Jake sighs. “I apologize for causing any of you distress. This has been a very difficult situation.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s been most difficult for you and we’re just happy that you’re doing well. Speaking of which, how are you?”

Jake has no doubts that the hotel’s rumor mill has done a good job of keeping everybody up to date on what’s happened with him. While he doubts anybody knows that his OCD is what contributed to his downward spiral, he knows everybody is probably aware of Jake isolating himself, ending up in the hospital and his long, slow recovery afterwards. “I’m doing much better, thank you. I’ve recovered quite well and I’m even healthier than I was prior to…these events happening.”

She looks relieved. “I’m very happy to hear that. We all are.”

Her support is nice, but Jake’s too anxious to spend more time dancing around the bush. He wants to get to the main purpose of this conversation. “Chef, may I get to my main reason for requesting this meeting?”

“Of course.”

“I’m wondering if you still have a position for me in the kitchen. I understand if nothing’s available, but I’m ready to get back to work and coming back here would be my first choice.”

Chef Mitra presses her lips together, but from one moment to the next, her facial expression slides into that impassive, professional mask that she wears during service. “We don’t currently have openings on the pastry team. I’m sure you can understand that you left us with no choice. I attempted to get in contact with you multiple times to determine how long your leave of absence would be, but you haven’t communicated with any of the restaurant staff in months. I had to make adjustments in order to allow the pastry team to continue meeting our standards.”

Jake nods. His heart falls a bit at hearing that there aren’t any open positions, but the rational part of him reminds himself that this was to be expected. It’s another thing he can blame that stupid storm for which had brought down his parents’ plane. “I understand and I’m not upset that I’ve been replaced. As I said, I’ve started my job search and working here would be my first choice, so I wanted to inquire if there were any openings.”

But Chef’s Mitra’s next words completely change the direction of the conversation. “We don’t currently have openings, but we might have one within a week. When you left, I promoted Chef Huang to executive pastry chef and she promoted Chef Dover to assistant pastry chef.”

Jake frowns, not recognizing the name. It must be one of the pastry assistants, but Jake’s never bothered learning their names. It was enough for Liying to know their names so if Jake had to bring disciplinary issues to Chef Mitra, he’d always ask Liying for their names. To his surprise, that’s not sitting right with him anymore and he resolves to do better going forward. His pastry assistants are talented chefs who have worked hard for their positions and they deserve his respect.

Chef Mitra’s lips twist a bit at his confused frown, which embarrasses Jake even more. “I apologize, Chef. I’m not familiar with that name.”

“Susan Dover has been one of the pastry assistants. She’s been with us for more than a year.”

Jake cringes inwardly and desperately tries to search his memory. “The blond one?”

“Yes. After Chef Dover’s promotion, we’ve hired a new pastry assistant to replace her position. However, Chef Dover’s wife is being transferred to Germany for work-related purposes and Chef Dover has applied to work at the Seever Hotel in Germany. She’ll be handing in her two week notice next week, so we’ll have an assistant pastry chef opening. The position will start in 3 weeks.”

Hope lights up in Jake’s chest. “Would you consider me for the position?”

Chef Mitra chuckles. “I would bend over backwards to have you back in my kitchen, Chef Seever.” But then she grows serious again. “But I have two conditions that are non-negotiable. I want to advise you of those conditions now, so you can consider whether you’ll want to take the job or not.”

“What are the conditions?”

She gives him a long look. “I need to be able to depend on you. So does the rest of the pastry team, especially Chef Huang. If you’re not 100% confident that you can do this job, you need to respect us by being honest. It’s a waste of everybody’s time—including your own—for you to come back if you’re not ready. You know that the stress of being on a professional line isn’t for everybody, even people who have extraordinary culinary talents. The two skills are unrelated and there’s no shame in deciding that working on a line isn’t what’s best for you. I would happily provide you with references that you could use to apply elsewhere, in a less stressful position.”

Jake’s stomach twists with anxiety again. It’s on the tip of his tongue to declare that he’s fine, he’s absolutely confident that he won’t fall apart in the kitchen. But he’s not going to underestimate his OCD again. Not when it might impact other people. He and Tom will have to seriously assess if Jake’s ready and if coming back into a professional kitchen is even a good idea to begin with. “I understand your concerns and I share those concerns, Chef. I’ll consider things very carefully before I give you my decision. But I assure you that I won’t accept the position unless I’m absolutely sure that I won’t be negatively impacting the rest of the team.”

She smiles, seeming pleased by that answer. “Good. The other condition is that Chef Huang will remain executive pastry chef. You’ll work under her.”

Jake nods, having no problem with that. He and Liying have always gotten along well in the kitchen and he’s always considered her his equal anyway. The only thing he’ll miss about having the top position is that he won’t be in charge of creating new menus. Liying might ask for his input but she’ll be in charge. But Jake reminds himself that he can create new desserts whenever he wants and Tom and Chesa will love them and their appreciation will be even better than making those desserts for strangers in the restaurant. “I’d be fine with that. Chef Huang and I have always worked well together.”

“It would technically be a demotion for you.”

“I don’t care about that. My priorities for my career have shifted over the last few months. I just want to be back in a kitchen, doing a job that I love and proving to myself that I can do it. Career advancement is the least of my concerns right now.”

Smiling, she nods. “Alright. If those terms are acceptable to you then you should spend time thinking this over. Chef Dover will be giving me her notice next week and once she does, I’ll email you to ask you for your decision. But please remember that I won’t hold it against you if you decide this isn’t the right fit for you. Myself and Chef Huang will provide you with references and people all over the world would be clamoring for you to work for their pastry shops or a wholesale bakery.”

The mere mention of working in a wholesale bakery makes Jake’s jaw twist with dislike, but he carefully keeps his face blank. He can’t underestimate his OCD again. Dismissing worthwhile options without taking the time to truly consider them is foolish. “Thank you very much, Chef. I’ll spend time thinking it over and I’ll let you know my decision when you contact me.”

She gives him a soft look. “We all just want what’s best for you, Jake. Let me know if there’s anything I or Chef Huang can do to help with your decision.”

“I will. Thank you very much.”

* * *

Tom’s busy the rest of the day, but the next morning, Jake asks him if he wants to go for a walk in the nearby park and discuss Chef Mitra’s proposal. Tom happily agrees and they stroll down one of the park walkways, hand in hand. Holding hands isn’t something Jake had made a conscious decision to do; he’d just grabbed for Tom’s hand while they were walking because he wants to stay close to him and Tom didn’t hesitate. It’s amusing because Jake remembers how adamant he’d been a few months ago that holding somebody’s hand in public is unnecessary and people just do it to flaunt their relationship in other people’s faces. But he doesn’t feel like he’s flaunting anything. It’s also not a necessary thing to be doing, but it feels nice. It amazes him that he’s still constantly discovering new things about himself and his relationship with Tom.

While they’re walking, Tom squeezes his hand and brings Jake’s thoughts back to the current situation. “So what are your thoughts about taking the job?”

Jake sighs softly as that familiar clench of anxiety flares up in his stomach. Reaching up he pushes his mom’s sunglasses further up his nose. “My initial instinct is to take it…but I’m worried.”

“You’re worried that the stress of being back in the kitchen will make you give in to your OCD more easily.”

“Yes. If I give in just once, I’ll use that as an excuse to give in even more and I’ll be back to where I started. I’m also worried fighting it might slow me down too much.”

“You’re already plating a lot faster than you were when we started practicing.”

Jake chews on his lip as they walk. “That’s just a few plates. When I’m in service and I have to make twenty or thirty plates, I’m worried I’ll be wasting too much time fighting with the OCD.”

Tom soothingly rubs his thumb against Jake’s hand. “I think you can do it. You’ve put systems in place that help you ignore the compulsions and push aside the obsessive thoughts. Every time you practice, those new methods become more natural to you. This morning, you kept both of our plates next to each other while plating our breakfast and you barely glanced between them.”

Jake sighs softly. “I think I can do it…but I’m scared that my OCD will take over again.”

Pulling them to a stop, Tom turns to face Jake. “Don’t give it that power. You’ve proven that you’re stronger than it and you can keep beating it. It’ll keep putting up a fight, probably for the rest of your life and you’ll always need to pay attention. But you can do it.”

Tom’s words give Jake a bit of a confidence boost and he starts to view the situation differently. “I wouldn’t want to _not_ take the job just because of my illness. That would feel like giving up. I don’t like that.”

“Use that determination to your advantage. That’s what’s gotten you this far and you can keep using it.”

“But what if I really can’t do it? What if I’m too slow or I give in constantly?”

“Then we’ll find you a nice pastry shop that sells gorgeous desserts for ridiculous prices and you’ll be able to work at a slower pace. But I think you’ll always be angry at yourself if you give up without giving it a shot.”

Pressing his lips together, Jake’s new determination is competing with his racing heart. He wants to both run away to the safety of a little pastry shop but also push against his OCD and go back into the kitchen. It’s making his head spin. “I wish you could be in the kitchen with me.”

Tom smiles softly. “You don’t need me there in person. You know exactly what I’d say to you if you’re getting overwhelmed and the urges start bothering you. But if you want some moral support, you could tell Liying about what you’re struggling with. I’m sure she’d be willing to help you.”

“That’s not Liying’s job.”

“You always tell me that cooking in a professional kitchen is all about team work. I’m sure she wouldn’t see this as a huge inconvenience. Anybody in that kitchen with two brain cells is desperate to have you back. I’ll bet my life on that. If you ask Liying for a little bit of extra support, I’m sure she’d be happy to help.”

Taking a deep breath, Jake nods. “Alright. I’ll call Liying when we get home and see what her opinion about all of this is.”

* * *

When they get back to the hotel, Tom heads off to run some errands and Jake goes upstairs and settles outside on the balcony before he calls Liying. It’s still early enough in the day that she won’t have gone down for prep.

To his surprise, Liying picks up the phone after just one ring. “Jake?! Oh, my God! Jake, is that you?”

He smiles, pleased by her response and already feeling better about things. “Yes, it’s me.”

“Oh, my God! I’ve been so worried! I called you a million times when you left the kitchen but you never answered you damn phone. And then I heard you had to go to the hospital and all kinds of other things. I’m…oh, my God! Please, tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. In fact, I’m doing much better than ever before. I’m sorry for having worried you.”

He’s finding her reaction surprising but also heart warming. He’s never wanted to make friends with the people he works with, but being around Tom and hearing him talking about his friends and seeing him going out to spend time with them has been making Jake reconsider his own lifestyle. Maybe Liying would want to be his friend outside of the kitchen? It’s something to keep in mind for later.

“Worried?! I was scared to death! But you sound okay. I…it’s understandable if you don’t want to talk about it, but if something like that ever happens again, please know that I’d be here for you.”

Smiling softly, Jake feels that familiar glow in his chest. He usually only feels it when Tom or Chesa say something kind to him and it’s very nice hearing it from a new person. “Thank you. That really means a lot to me. But I really think I won’t end up in a situation like that again. Tom’s helped me so much and having him in my life is helping me enormously.”

There’s a pause from her end. “Tom. As in—Tom the whore?”

Jake chuckles and rolls his eyes as he leans back in the deck chair, his mom’s sunglasses shielding his eyes from the sun. He can’t believe they’re going to have this same argument again. Liying’s predictability is amusing. “Yes, that same Tom.”

“You’re still friends with him?”

“I’m not just friends with him. I love him and he loves me. We’re living together now.”

There’s silence.

Jake’s smile slides off his face and he sits up. “Look, I don’t expect you to like him. Like I’ve always told you, I’m friends with him because I like him. You don’t like him and you don’t have to be friends with him. But please, don’t be disrespectful to him. He saved my life. Literally. I would be dead right now if it hadn’t been for him and that’s not an exaggeration in any way.”

“So you two are together now?”

“We got together before my parents passed.”

“Did he quit his job?”

Jake struggles to suppress a sigh. He’ll never understand why people have such problems with Tom’s job when those same people will brag to anybody who listens about their sexual escapades. Liying doesn’t do that, but based on her comments over the years, she’s no prude. “No, he hasn’t.”

“And you’re seriously fine with that?” Her voice is full of disbelief.

“Yes, I am.”

“You realize that he’s having sex with other people?”

Jake chuckles. “Yes. Sometimes he’s even having sex with more than one person at a time. But no, it doesn’t bother me, just like it doesn’t bother him that I make desserts for other people for a living.”

“Sex is different.”

“Maybe it is for you but I don’t see a difference. But anyway, I’m not asking for your approval. It’s irrelevant to me if you like Tom or not. I just wanted to make sure you fully understand the situation and how important he is to me.”

She sighs softly. “I think part of the problem is that I’ve never met him. I always assumed you were being naïve but I never liked assuming that because it felt unfair to you.”

“If you’d ever like to meet him, I’m sure he’d be happy to meet you too. He’s heard a lot about you over the years and he’s always respected you. But it’s fine if you never want to discuss him again. He has nothing to do with our jobs.”

Jake’s hoping he’s successfully steered the situation back to the reason why he called her and thankfully, Liying takes the change in direction and goes with it. “What’s happening with your job? Have you talked to Chef?”

“Yes. She says Chef Dover is leaving soon and the assistant pastry chef position is mine if I want it. I’d like to know your opinion about that.”

She laughs. “Jake, I’d do anything to have you back in the kitchen with me. Susan’s fine, but I’ve missed working with you. Neither of us have your creativity and I’ve done my best, but coming up with new dessert ideas has never been my strong suite. I need you there to help boost my creative juices.”

He smiles. “I’d be happy to provide that boost. So you’d be alright if I came back as assistant?”

“Of course! Would you be okay with it?”

He rolls his eyes. “Obviously. We’ve always worked well together.”

“Would you be willing to help me set menus? I’ve mostly been doing re-runs or making minor changes to desserts you used in the past. I’m really eager to come up with new things again, but I don’t have your creativity. It’s a sad fact of life, but I’d love it if you helped me with that.”

Grinning, Jake does a happy wiggle on his chair. If this works out, he’ll get to come up with beautiful, unique dessert ideas again that hundreds of people will enjoy. “I’d love that. Thank you for giving me that opportunity.”

She scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“No, you’re head pastry chef. If you wanted to set your own menu, I’d follow your direction without complaint. Allowing me to help with the menus is a gift that I’m really grateful for.”

“Then we’ll both be getting what we want. So when are you coming back to work? Right when Susan leaves?”

That makes all those joyous thoughts fade away and Jake’s anxiety returns. Those doubts start crowding in his head; his OCD taunting him and telling him he won’t be able to do this. He’ll fail. He’ll embarrass himself. He’ll end up right back where he started and all his—and Tom’s—hard work will have been for nothing. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’d love to be back on the team as soon as possible, but I’m…concerned that I’d be a detriment.”

“Why do you think that?” Her voice sound cautious.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Jake briefly reaches up to touch his mom’s sunglasses and glance down at his dad’s watch. They’d want him to be honest. That’s the only way he’ll get Liying’s support. Besides, if she decides she doesn’t want to deal with his issues, it’s better to clear that up now rather than during the chaos of a service when innocent diners will end up paying the price. “I’ve really been struggling with OCD. I’ve always struggled with it, but I’ve always managed to structure my life around my OCD. After my parents passed away, things got completely out of hand and that’s what led to the bad situation I ended up in.”

“That’s what landed you in the hospital?”

“Yes.”

Her breathing is a little shaky. “Jesus, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. My grief left me vulnerable and my OCD spiraled out of control. Thankfully, Tom stepped in and saved my life. I would have died within a few days if he hadn’t rescued me. I never realized what a problem my OCD is, but now I understand how dangerous it is. Other people can easily live with their OCD, but for me, it has the potential to be fatal. Tom made me see that my OCD has always been firmly embedded in my cooking practices, so that’s something I’ve been working on.”

“The plating, right? The constant measuring.”

“Yes. I was so accustomed to it that I was able to do my job despite catering to my illness. But that left me extremely vulnerable and I don’t want to get to that stage ever again. Tom has been helping me control my OCD when I’m in the kitchen.”

“How has that been going?” Her voice is soft, sounding worried. Once again, it makes Jake feel good to know that she truly cares. She could have cut him off and said that none of this has anything to do with her and she just expects Jake to do his job properly if he wants to work under her.

“It’s been very difficult, but I’m getting better every day. I have new techniques that I’m using and it’s getting easier with every plate. But the reason I’m telling you this is because I might struggle during service. I have no idea how the stress of being back on the line will impact me and what my performance will be like. If I prove to be inadequate, I’ll be the first to resign. But I might need a little help and I’m wondering if you’d be interested in providing that help or if you believe this is an unnecessary complication and you’d rather find somebody else to replace Chef Dover. I would be fine with either option.”

“We’re a team, Jake. I want you on my team and I’m happy to help you. As long as we’re meeting the standards that Chef expects of us, I’ll do whatever you need.”

A weight is lifted off Jake’s chest and a little bit of that anxiety fades away. He’s found another person who will join him in his battle against his OCD and that gives him even more determination to get back on the line. “Thank you. That means the world to me.”

She takes a deep breath. “I want to know more about your OCD if I’m going to help you. I need to you exactly…you know what? I have an idea. Maybe this is crazy, but would you want to do a practice run?”

Jake frowns. “Practice run?”

“Yes. You’ve been practicing in your room, right?”

“Yes…”

“How many desserts have you been making?”

“Just a few. Maximum four or five, depending on how many Tom wants to eat.”

She makes a thoughtful sound. “That’s what I thought. It’ll be a big jump to go from that to making the thirty plates we each average during a service. Do you think it would be a good idea to do a test run?”

Jake immediately likes that idea but he doesn’t understand the logistics. “Absolutely, but where can we do a test run with enough diners? We can’t sneak into the kitchen at midnight and make a bunch of food that nobody’s going to eat and I don’t want to invite 30 strangers into my room.”

“No, but we can serve dessert in the staff cafeteria.”

That makes Jake sit up straight. “That’s brilliant!” he breathes, excitement rushing through him. He’s a little anxious about it, but he’s already excited to jump into this battle and see how he does.

“We wouldn’t have to worry about orders,” she says. “We’d just push out plate after plate and make sure the pass always has plates on them for people to take. And if you end up struggling too badly, I can easily finish on my own, or we can just quit.”

“That’s a really great idea!”

She laughs. “I’m happy you think so. So, what do you wanna make? Your choice.”

Jake blinks and it suddenly occurs to him that this whole thing is crazy. It’s wonderful, but crazy. “You don’t have to do this. You’d be giving up your own time.”

“I’d be spending my time helping one of my team members get their skills sharp again. That’s time well spent. Even more important, I’ll be helping a friend continue his recovery. That makes it worth my while.”

Jake still feels bad. “Even so, I insist on compensating you. Since this is something extra that you’re doing just for me, I’ll double your normal hourly wage.”

She snorts. “Don’t be silly. I expect you to buy the ingredients we’ll use—seeing how I’m not the billionaire around here—but I don’t want any money. I’m helping a friend and that’s not work.”

Shaking his head in wonder, Jake slumps back against his chair. “That’s exactly what Tom says in similar situations.”

“I can’t believe I’m actually going to say this, but it seems I have something in common with him. Who would have thought, huh?”

Chuckling, Jake sighs softly. This is fantastic! “So when would you like to do this?”

“We could do lunch tomorrow.”

Tomorrow? Jake’s initial instinct is to say that’s too soon...but then he thinks about it and realizes there’s no reason to push this off. It’s only his anxiety that’s telling him tomorrow is too soon and the longer he waits, the more anxious he’ll get about it. “Okay.”

“How about you get the ingredients together and call me when you’re ready to do prep? We can do prep in your kitchen and bring everything down when we’re ready.”

Jake presses his lips together. “Would you mind if Tom’s around during prep? He’s getting to be quite handy in the kitchen. But if you’re uncomfortable, he can go elsewhere.”

“You know what? I think it’s time I meet this Tom of yours. It sounds like he’s going to be a permanent part of your life and since I’d like to be a permanent part of your life too, it makes sense for us to be better acquainted.”

Laughing, Jake can’t believe how amazing this conversation is going. It truly seems like he’s found a new friend, not to mention a new ally in his fight against his illness. “Tom would love that.”

“Good. I’m looking forward to meeting him and having all of my preconceptions blown to pieces. Now, what do you wanna make?”

Jake quickly sorts through different dessert categories in his head. He remembers how Tom had made Jake realize how bad his OCD really is by asking Jake to slice that apple and he thinks it would be poetic justice to make apples a dominant part of his first service back in a kitchen. “How about deconstructed apple crumble?”

“I love that! So—crumble and apples. We’ll cook the apples and we can deglaze the pan and use the caramel for sauce. But what else? It needs more elements.”

Jake’s mind floods with possibilities, comparing the tastes and textures that he’s already envisioning on a plate. “We could bake sablé cookies. The recipe’s easy enough that Tom could do it. Would we want whipping cream or ice cream to go with it?”

“Definitely ice cream. I’m thinking vanilla and cinnamon?”

That makes Jake frown. “I don’t have an ice cream maker in my room.”

“I’ll speak to Chef and ask for permission to make a batch during service. You know we rarely use the machine anyway.”

Yes, because Jake’s OCD has always hated making quenelles and he’s avoided making ice cream part of any dessert for years. “I don’t want to incon—”

“You won’t be inconveniencing anybody. If you really want, I’ll bill your room for the ingredients. But you know it’ll take me five minutes to throw everything together into the machine before service tonight and once it’s done, it’ll take me five minutes to take it out and put it into the freezer. It’s not a big deal and I know Chef will see it the same way.”

Smiling, Jake’s excitement keeps growing. “Alright. But only if you bill me for the ingredients and only if Chef gives permission. If she doesn’t, text me and I’ll buy some ice cream tonight.” His nose wrinkles involuntarily at the thought of using store-bought ice cream, but they might not have a choice.

Liying laughs. “I can hear how much the thought offends you. Trust me, it’s not a big deal. Can you get the other ingredients tomorrow morning?”

“I’ll place the order right now and they’ll deliver it tonight. Tom and I can peel and slice the apples tonight so we can focus on other things tomorrow. What time is staff lunch?”

“Between 11 and 1.”

Nodding, Jake’s already mentally planning out his day tomorrow. He can’t remember ever being this excited about an upcoming service! He’s also anxious, but mostly excited. “Alright. I’ll text you if there are any problems.”

“Okay.”

Smiling, Jake can’t believe how full his heart feels. “Thank you for doing this.”

“Oh, hush! You’re my friend, Jake.”

Speaking of which… “I’ve never been very good at having friends, but I’d really like to have a stronger friendship with you.”

“I’d like that too. We’ll start tomorrow, okay? And speaking of friendship, I look forward to meeting Tom.”

“Tom’s looking forward to it too.” Well, Jake hasn’t told him about it yet, but he knows Tom will be excited to finally meet Liying in person.

“And I’m also looking forward to seeing his sablé biscuit making talents. He’s living with one of the best pastry chefs I’ve ever met, so I have high expectations.”

Jake laughs, mentally reminding himself to make a batch of cookies with Tom tonight so he won’t embarrass himself in front of Liying tomorrow. “I’ll pass on the message. I think he’ll surprise you.”

“Hopefully, in more ways than one. Okay, I gotta go. I’ll go ask Chef about the ice cream maker right now. I’ll text you with her answer.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye, Jake!”

“Bye! Good luck in service tonight.”

As soon as he’s hung up with Liying, Jake scrambles off his chair and he’s dialing Tom’s number. Thankfully, Tom doesn’t have a session tonight.

He picks up on the second ring. “What’s up?”

“Are you in the mood to learn how to make sablé biscuits tonight?”

“…What? What the hell is a sablé biscuit?”

Jake makes a dismissive noise as he heads inside and boots up his laptop to place his grocery order. “It’s a French shortbread cookie. It’s more crumbly than the versions we make.”

“Okay…you know I love baking with you but why am I learning how to make fancy French cookies?”

Jake grins. “Because Liying is going to come over tomorrow to meet you and we’re all going to prep a dessert that she and I will serve in the staff cafeteria. It’ll be my test run.”

“Oh, my God, that’s fantastic! Did you think of that?”

“Actually, no. It was Liying’s idea.”

“I’ve always been fond of her, even if she hates my guts. Jesus Christ, that’s an amazing idea! So I’m making fancy French sablé cookies?”

It suddenly occurs to Jake that he’s being a bit pushy. “Yes. But only if you want to. You don’t have to make the cookies and you don’t have to meet Liying.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be home in ten minutes, Chef.”

Laughing with delight, Jake bends over his laptop to start putting in an order for thirty apples. “I’ll be waiting.”


	38. Chapter 38

While waiting for Liying to arrive the next morning, Tom does his hair and puts on a nice button-down shirt and slacks, despite usually running around in sweatpants when he’s home. Despite Jake’s assurances that Liying won’t care, he wants to make a good impression. Details like that are something Jake always notices, so there’s no reason to think Liying will be any different.

In order to mentally prepare himself for the day, Jake’s put on his chef’s jacket after they’d finished breakfast. Tom still has mixed feelings about seeing him wearing that jacket—his mind always flashes back to when he’d found Jake wearing that jacket, starving and dying in the living room—but hopefully, Tom will start building new, positive memories of that jacket to replace the horrible ones with.

Tom puts on his newly-purchased apron and he’s making a batch of sable cookies when there’s a knock on the door. Jake’s mixing the enormous bowl of apple slices with cinnamon and other things, but he puts down the spoon when the knock comes. “I’ll get it.”

“Okay.”

Tom stays in the kitchen, measuring out flour as he listens to Jake opening the door and greeting Liying. She sounds thrilled to see him, which makes Tom smile. Together with her suggestion to help Jake do a test run in the staff cafeteria, he thinks Liying could become a new good friend for Jake and that’s always great. Jake can always use more good people in his life.

They come around the corner, Jake carrying an enormous tub of what’s probably the ice cream and Liying is smiling nervously. She has her chef’s jacket slung over one arm and she’s carrying a bag of supplies. Putting the measuring cup down, Tom quickly pulls off his apron. He’d timed it deliberately so Liying would see that he’s in the middle of baking. He wants to prove to her that he’s just as committed to helping Jake as she is and it’ll help add to her first impression of him.

“This is Tom,” Jake says, coming into the kitchen with the heavy tub. “Tom, this is Liying. I’ll just put the ice cream into the freezer.”

Stepping around Jake, Tom steps up to Liying and holds out his hand with a smile. “Tom Carlson. It’s lovely to finally meet you.”

Her smile is still nervous and her eyes are running up and down his body, hopefully getting the impression that Tom’s trying to create. “Liying Huang. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

They shake hands and Tom keeps smiling. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Chef.”

Her smile grows a bit brighter, like Jake’s usually does when Tom refers to him by his title. “Oh, please. It’s just Liying.”

That makes Tom relax a bit. “Thank you so much for helping Jake with this test run. It’s a fantastic idea.”

She sighs softly and her eyes look a bit worried, which is matching the bit of anxiety that’s been simmering in Tom’s gut—and Jake’s—the entire morning. “I hope it’ll go well. We’d all love to have Jake back in the kitchen but not at the expense of his happiness.”

Tom nods. It seems their priorities match and that’s a good sign. But no matter how much Tom wants to have 100% confidence in Jake’s ability to handle being back in a professional kitchen, he doesn’t want to go overboard and make Jake feel even worse if things don’t go well. “I hope so too. Jake’s worked really hard and I think he’ll be able to do this. If not, we’ll think of something else. But in any case, it’s fantastic that you’re willing to do this.”

Jake’s fussing with things in the freezer, despite it being as meticulously organized as the rest of his kitchen. Tom knows he’s listening to every word they’re saying.

“It’s great that you’re helping him too,” she says. “Jake says you’ve been very helpful during his recovery. You care about him a lot.” It’s not a question.

Tom smiles softly. “Yes, I do. He’s the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Her lips twist and she narrows her eyes at him a bit. She’s still unsure about him. “Does him being filthy rich have anything to do with it?”

Jake sighs as he closes the freezer. “Liying, please. I—”

Tom holds up a soothing hand towards him. “It’s fine, Jake. She’s right to be worried and I like that she’s wary about my intentions. It shows she cares about you and that’s important. But I assure you, Chef Huang, I’ve never been interested in Jake’s money and I never will be. I make a comfortable living on my own and I enjoy being independent.”

He decides not to mention that Jake’s been supporting him financially during Jake’s recovery, since that’s an added complication that would require more explanation.

One of her eyebrows rises and she looks at him with an even more calculating expression, as if he’s a complex dessert that she can’t quite figure out. “I see.”

Tom smiles. “I doubt it. I understand that Jake and my relationship isn’t conventional, but that’s fine. It’s wonderful that you’re looking out for him because I love him a lot and it’s reassuring to know that others care about him too. But I don’t expect you to trust me or even like me. As long as we respect each other, I think we’ll get along well enough to benefit Jake.”

She nods slowly. “That’s the most important thing right now.”

“I agree.”

“And it’s Liying. Unless we’re in a kitchen together.”

Tom laughs and gestures at the bowl of flour next to him. “Technically, we’re in a kitchen now.”

She laughs, the first genuine laugh he’s heard from her so far. “That’s true. Alright, fine. You can call me whatever you want when we’re cooking together.”

“Deal.”

Glancing at Jake, Liying puts down the bag of supplies she brought. “Jake, I don’t know what supplies the cafeteria has, so I borrowed some things from the kitchen. Don’t worry, I asked Chef and she’s fine with it.”

Jake steps forward and eagerly starts going through the bag. “Excellent. Thank you.”

Pulling on her chef’s jacket, Liying buttons it up. “Okay, let’s get going. Where do you need me?”

Tom turns back to his cookie dough and picks up his measuring cup again as Jake steps up next to him. “Start the apples and I’ll prepare the bottles for the caramel and I’ll do the crumble. Tom, you’ll continue doing the cookies.”

“Yes, Chef,” Tom says, glancing at the recipe that Jake wrote out for him yesterday.

As they work, Tom pays careful attention to his cookie dough, not wanting to give Liying any reason to doubt his dedication to this project and not wanting to embarrass Jake. When his first batch of cookies are in the oven, Tom goes to the other side of the counter and watches Liying and Jake working; effortlessly moving around each other and working together with only minimal commands spoken between each other. I reminds Tom that he’s sharing a kitchen with two professional pastry chefs and that’s another life experience he never thought he’d be a part of, which is really neat.

* * *

Jake’s fine while they’re doing the prep, but his nerves are gradually climbing. He tries to focus on what he’s supposed to be doing, but his OCD keeps yelling in the back of his mind, feeding him nightmare scenarios. Jake will freeze. He’ll produce horrible plates. He’ll be too slow. He’ll humiliate himself. The nightmare scenarios keep coming faster and faster…and then Liying’s asking him to do a demo plate.

Jake’s standing at the counter, the enormous bowls of components all around him and a round white plate in front of him. Making a demo plate isn’t going to be difficult, but Jake’s stomach clenches with anxiety at the thought of having to make thirty or forty of them and how his OCD will impact this whole thing. Tom steps up next to him and Jake desperately wants him to wrap his arms around him, but he’s conscious of Liying standing on his other side, watching them.

“You can do this,” Tom says quietly. Liying can hear him, but Jake doesn’t care. He needs to hear Tom’s words.

“I’m already anxious,” Jake whispers.

“You know what you need to do. Take deep breaths and just focus on putting one thing on the plate at a time. Pull your attention away from your anxiety and focus it on what you’re supposed to be doing. What are you gonna plate first?”

Jake’s eyes immediately go to the bowl of cooked apple slices. “Apples.”

“Good. How many?”

“Five.”

“Okay. Let’s do that.”

While his anxiety is still screeching at him with his doubts, Jake makes his hand pick up the tweezers and he pulls out one apple slice at a time, putting them on the right side of the plate in a fan shape.

“That looks great! What’s next?”

“Crumble.”

“Okay, let’s do crumble. Focus on where you want it to go.”

Digging a spoon into the baked crumble, Jake carefully deposits it on the right side of the plate, nudging the pieces that roll a bit away. But surprisingly, he’s not nearly as stressed about it as he’d been when he’d put the crumble on those chocolate cheesecake plates. He can do this. He’s already done most of this during his practice and he needs to do what Tom said and pay more attention to what he’s doing and less attention to his OCD.

“Next is the cookie,” he mumbles. He picks up one of Tom’s star-shaped cookies and puts it in between the crumble and the apple slices.

“The star of the plate has arrived,” Tom says, his tone light.

It makes Jake smile and he rolls his eyes. “You know the cookies are just a supporting role. The apples are the dominant component.”

“Whatever. In my mind, the cookies are the most important things on that plate and clearly, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Chuckling, Jake picks up a spoon and pulls the tub of ice cream close. “Well, pardon me. I always forget which one of us went to culinary school around here.”

“Culinary schmulinary. I don’t need a fancy degree to know my cookies are superstars.”

That makes Liying laugh too and Jake’s abruptly reminded of her presence. He’s really glad that Tom’s distracted him with his humor, allowing him to relax a bit. He wants Liying’s help and that means letting her see what his struggle with his OCD looks like, but he’s desperately hoping he won’t completely fall apart like he has in the past. Not only will Tom not be in the kitchen with him, but he’ll be in full view of the cafeteria and that will be horrible. But before he can dwell on that nightmare scenario, he dips the spoon into a cup of hot water. “Next is the quenelle.”

Tom chuckles. “Yes, time for the football shaped ice cream scoop.”

Jake snorts as he carefully slides the spoon sideways into the ice cream until it’s half submerged and gently pulls it towards him, making the ice cream curl up against the spoon, forming a perfect quenelle. “I keep telling you that there are times and places where round scoops are appropriate and desserts like these aren’t it.”

“And I keep telling you that I think round scoops have been unfairly shunned by the upper echelons of the culinary world. But whatever. My opinion doesn’t seem to matter.”

Laughing, Jake brings the spoon to the plate and carefully rubs the back of the spoon to heat it up and allow the quenelle to drop from the spoon onto the star-shaped sablé cookie. “Your opinion on most things matters to me tremendously, just not cooking related things.”

Tom sighs dramatically. “That’s a fact I’ll struggle to accept, but I have no choice. Now that the football is on the plate, what’s next?”

Dropping the spoon back in the cup of water, Jake picks up the bottle that they’d put the caramel sauce into. “Caramel. Four dots in decreasing size.”

Squeezing out the first dot is easy. Making the second one is more difficult because Jake has to concentrate hard to make it small enough to have a noticeable difference from the first one but large enough that he can still decrease the size twice. It’s also difficult because he can move his hand approximately the same distance between each sauce dot, but because the dots are different sizes, none of them have the same spacing between them. When Jake makes the final solitary dot for the fourth one, he puts down the bottle, his hand already shaking a bit.

The four dots are all at different intervals. The third dot should be a tiny bit lower down. The quenelle has already started melting and two drops have landed on the cookie below. Speaking of the cookie, Jake wishes he would have put it just a little bit further up. The crumble is all different sizes and a bit of liquid from the apples is leaking around them.

It looks horrible. This…this won’t work at all. He can’t serve this to other people!

“Jake? What are you thinking?” Tom asks quietly.

Liying is staring at Jake, but Jake can’t even focus on being embarrassed because he’s too anxious. “I hate it.”

“Remember what we’ve practiced. Don’t dwell on your negative thoughts, but analyze them. The OCD is turning your brain in circles right now. Force it to stop and analyze what it’s doing and why.”

Jake takes a deep, shaky breath. “I’m focusing on the tiny details. I hate…my OCD hates that a lot of components are changing without my input.”

“Like the melting ice cream?”

“Yes. I see problems with every single component.”

“Okay, now close your eyes and forget about every single one of those issues. Do what we practiced. When you open your eyes, you’re gonna look at the whole plate and decide if it’s acceptable or not. Not individual components, but the whole plate.”

Obediently, Jake closes his eyes and desperately tries to stop the screeching from the OCD in his head. Stop, stop, stop! It’s fine. The dessert’s fine. He’d spent an hour deciding on the plating last night and he knows it looks good. He’ll open his eyes and he’ll like what he sees. He won’t focus on the details. It’s the whole plate that matters, not each individual component.

Slowly, Jake opens his eyes and stares down at the plate again. His eyes try to catch on the melting ice cream and the third caramel dot being a bit off and he can’t appreciate the overall effect, no matter how hard he tries. His heart’s racing. “I can’t stop focusing on the small things.”

“Then don’t. That plate’s done. You know you put everything where it needed to go. Maybe some things are a tiny bit off, but it matches what you planned, right?”

“Yes.”

“So it’s ready to be served?”

“Yes.”

“Get it out of here. Do another one.”

Jake obediently pushes the plate away from him and Liying helpfully hands him a new plate. Although they were only supposed to do one demo plate, this is much more important. Despite how anxious and embarrassing he feels, Jake knows this is good. Liying is seeing firsthand what life in the kitchen has become for him and she’ll be able to decide if this is something she’ll want to deal with when working with him or not.

“Are you thinking about the other plate?” Tom asks.

Jake shakes his head. “No. That’s the procedure. It’s done, it’s gone. I’m focusing on the next one.”

“Good. What’s first?”

“Apples.”

Jake moves through plating the second round and his eyes keep wanting to compare the results to the first plate, but Liying slides the first plate further away when she sees him looking at it. It makes Jake want to yell at her, but he’s also glad.

Doing the quenelle is the most difficult part because he knows it looks different from the first one. His shaking hand hovers over the cookie, the quenelle scoop sitting on the spoon. He can’t put it on the cookie. It looks awful. It looks deformed. It’s not good enough. There’s a reason he never makes ice cream part of his desserts! It’s impossible to get it perfect!

“Jake, what are you thinking?”

To his surprise, it’s Liying who asked the question.

“It’s not perfect,” Jake grits out, his jaw clenched.

“Because it looks different from the first one?”

“Yes.”

Tom slides closer to him. “Follow procedure, Jake. Does it look different? Yes. We’ve established that. What’s the next question?”

“Is it acceptable.”

Tom nods. “Is it?”

Jake stares down at the quenelle. He’s tempted to say that no, it’s not acceptable because it looks different. But that’s not a valid reason. He needs to judge the quenelle on its own appearance, not compare it to the other one. “Yes.”

Having decided that it’s passable, he puts it on the cookie, then grabs the caramel sauce. When he’s finally done the second plate, he pushes it away and takes a deep breath as Tom rubs his back. The kitchen is silent as Jake tries to calm his racing heart.

“How do you feel?” Liying asks him quietly.

Jake draws in a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I can do this. I really want to try, but I don’t know if I can.”

Tom grabs his hand and squeezes it hard. “I know you can do this. It’ll be stressful and difficult, but with practice, it’ll get easier. Remember how hard it was while we were making cake pops?”

Numbly, Jake nods. No longer caring that Liying is standing right next to him, he leans against Tom, who wraps his arms around him, wrapping him in his solid warmth.

“And now, you’re plating complex desserts, using those same skills. Did you ever think you’d make two plates with quenelles and crumble without throwing them into the trash? Or making sauce dots without using your ruler?”

Jake sighs softly. “No. Not in a million years.”

“And you just did it,” Tom says into his hair. “It was tough, but you pushed through and it wasn’t as difficult as it was in the past. Whether you want to keep battling this stress while cooking is a whole other issue, but I know you can do this.”

Tom kisses his temple and rubs his back. “Do you want me to come into the cafeteria with you?”

Jake doesn’t even have to think about it. “Yes, please.” But that presents other problems. “I wish you could be in the restaurant kitchen with me too.”

Tom squeezes him hard. “With more practice, you won’t need me there. You’ll get into a rhythm and you’ll get more comfortable and things will get easier.”

Liying is leaning against the counter, watching them. “And Jake, I’d love to help in any way you need. I know I can’t be Tom, but I want to support you any way I can.”

Jake’s feeling too overwhelmed to even consider her offer, but thankfully, Tom takes over and talks to Liying while he keeps hugging Jake. “If I go down there with you guys, do you think you can learn how I’m helping Jake while you’re doing the plating? Or should we do more practice sessions here?”

“We’ll see how service goes. If Jake’s willing to let me help him, I’m happy to learn whatever he needs me to do. If we need to do more practice here or wherever else, I’ll be there.”

With difficulty, Jake pulls back from Tom and glances at her. “This is going way beyond your responsibilities.”

“It’s well within my responsibilities as your friend. And I don’t really consider a responsibility. This is about a lot more than just plating. This is about your life and your happiness. What Tom did for you just now isn’t hard. I know for you it was a huge struggle, but that’s because you did most of the work. I can learn what questions to ask you and what you need me to say and I agree with Tom that over time, you’ll get better at it and you won’t need that extra support. But I’m happy to give you that support, if you need it.”

Tom gently wraps his arms around Jake’s waist and rests his chin on his shoulder. “So what do you think? We can put off the test run for a little while, but if you wanna try, then you’ve got two allies who are gonna help you fight.”

Jake clutches Tom’s hands and stares at Liying, who looks just as determined as Tom sounds. Taking a deep breath, Jake resists the urge to give up. That will mean his OCD won today and Jake refuses to let that happen. “I want to try.”

Kissing Jake’s cheek, Tom rubs his stomach. “Okay. Let’s get geared up for battle.”

* * *

Tom can tell Jake’s nerves are through the roof. He’s pale, trembling a bit and he’s so busy with his internal battle that he barely manages to paste a polite smile on his face and shake hands with the cafeteria staff.

To make things seem more official, Jake’s let Tom borrow one of his chef’s jackets, which makes Tom feel weird and proud all at the same time, but he doesn’t let himself dwell on it. He tries to stay out of the way as the kitchen staff move around him and Liying and Jake get set up. The first few hotel staff members start trickling in and then it’s go time.

They wait about ten minutes into service so people can get their entrees and have time to eat and the desserts aren’t ‘dying on the pass’—which is apparently a real kitchen phrase that Tom finds hilarious and his laughter makes Liying and Jake both give him weird looks. When a hotel employee brings their empty plate to the tray holding the dirty dishes, Liying asks him if he’d like some dessert, and from the way his eyes light up, Tom knows it’s time to get started.

He stands next to Jake and discreetly squeezes his hand as Jake pulls a white plate off the stack and puts it down on front of him, his hands shaking. “You can do this,” Tom whispers. “One component at a time and always focus on the next step.”

Nodding, Jake picks up his tweezers and carefully takes out one apple slice at a time and places them on the plate, nudging them until they’re lined up the way he wants. It’s slow, but there isn’t a line yet and they have time to let Jake calm down.

Once the apple slices are plated, Jake takes a few deep breaths and Tom can tell he’s mentally reminding himself that the slices are fine, he’s happy with their placement and it’s time to move on. He puts a spoonful of crumble on the plate, but his hand is shaking so much that the crumble ends up sprinkled over a larger portion of the plate than Jake would like.

Tom waits, wanting to let Jake fight as much as he can on his own.

Jake’s trembling hands keep reaching for the crumble and pulling back, until he finally sighs, sounding angry. “The crumble should be in a neat pile. This isn’t a neat pile. I’m going to put it into a pile, but then it’ll be fine,” he mumbles to himself.

Smiling, Tom watches him carefully sweep up the crumble with his fingers until it’s in a nice pile. His hand hesitates over it.

“Are you happy with it?” Tom asks quietly.

“Yes.” Jake’s voice is tight and shaking and Tom knows Jake’s OCD isn’t happy with it. But Jake reaches for one of the sablé cookies and Tom grins, mentally cheering.

Once the cookie is on the plate, Jake hesitates again, but he briefly closes his eyes. “It’s fine. Everything is where I want it to go. It’s ready.”

With just another slight hesitation, Jake slides the plate over to Liying, who puts on the quenelle and caramel sauce, before putting it up on the pass and smiling at the employee. “There you go, sir.”

Tom is grateful that Liying hadn’t thanked the man for his patience. While it’s rude to be grateful for that, Tom doesn’t want Jake getting even more stressed if it’s pointed out to him that he’s still moving too slowly. Hopefully, he’ll speed up as he gets more comfortable.

Jake’s staring at the plate that the employee is picking up and he’s incredibly tense, probably wanting to ask the man to give him the plate back so he can redo it.

“Next plate, Jake. Next plate. That one’s done,” Tom whispers, loudly enough that Liying can hear but quietly enough that Jake won’t be embarrassed.

Jake lets out a quiet, distressed sound, but he pulls a new plate close to him and picks up his tweezers. “Apples,” he mumbles to himself.

Slowly, Jake moves through his second plate. This time, he immediately grabs a new plate as soon as he’s pushed the plate over to Liying and he starts on the apple slices. He gets a little stuck after putting down the cookie—moving it back and forth a few fractions of an inch—but Tom quietly asks him if the cookie is acceptable where it is and when Jake makes a face but nods, he slides the plate over to Liying.

They do plate after plate after plate and slowly, Jake starts speeding up. He still pauses in between components as a mental war rages in his head, but he usually gets himself going again by mumbling the next step to himself. If he gets stuck for longer than a few seconds, Tom will quietly ask him what he’s thinking about and remind him to only think about the plate he’s currently working on and whether the components are in the places he wants them to be. If yes, that plate is acceptable and he needs to keep going.

Halfway through service, Liying and Jake decide to switch. Doing the quenelles and caramel dots is harder for Jake than the other components and he gets very tense again and his hand shakes so badly that he messes up the first three quenelles he tries making, but Tom discreetly rubs his back. “Deep breaths. You’re doing great. You know how to do this. Just focus on making one nice quenelle and getting it on the plate.”

“It—it’ll look different.”

“Yes. But what’s the important question to ask yourself?”

“Will it be acceptable? If yes, it goes on the plate. If not, I’ll redo it.”

“Perfect. You can do this.”

As before, Jake stays tense and struggles hard for the first few plates, but then he gets into a rhythm. Eventually, Tom doesn’t have to say anything for a few plates and he quietly asks Jake if he’d be okay if Tom went and sat in the dining room.

Jake freezes and opens his mouth, but then snaps it shut again, thinking. Finally, he nods. “Yes. Yes, let’s try.”

“I’ll keep an eye on you and if things go sideways, I’ll come help. I promise.”

Nodding, Jake’s jaw is clenched.

Tom leans closer to him. “I love you and I know you can do this,” he whispers right into Jake’s ear. “It’ll be tough, but it’ll get easier the more you practice.”

Jake nods again, looking pale and scared, but after a few deep breaths, he straightens up and pulls over the plate Liying pushed towards him and reaches for the spoon in the hot water glass. Not wanting Jake to lose the burst of confidence he’s clinging to, Tom quietly makes his way out of the kitchen and into the dining room. He picks a table where he can clearly see Jake and Liying working and he ignores the curious glances he’s getting from the hotel employees around him. He doesn’t care if they’re wondering who he is or if they recognize him. He’s here for Jake and that’s all that matters.

Jake stays tense and pale for the first few plates, pausing after doing each quenelle. On the next plate, he re-does the quenelle twice and he’s staring down at it, still looking unhappy. Liying glances at him and sees that he’s frozen.

Tom’s bracing himself to go back into the kitchen, but Liying is saying something quietly to Jake and he’s nodding. His jaw is clenched, but he gets that determined look on his face and he gently rubs the bottom of the spoon and puts the quenelle on the plate before grabbing the caramel sauce bottle. His motions stay tense and choppy for several plates, with constant starts and stops, but they’re pushing out plates fast enough that nobody ever waits long for dessert. Tom has no idea if Jake’s current pace will be good enough for the kitchen, but Jake’s already doing much better than he did at the start. With practice, Tom feels confident that he can do it. Whether Jake will want to have a job that forces him to fight this draining, difficult battle every single day is another issue and they’ll talk about once service is done.

But thankfully, Jake starts to calm down as he settles into the rhythm. Liying sometimes says quiet things to him, which make Jake smile and Tom slowly relaxes. It seems that Liying really does want to help Jake and she understands when he needs support and when he just needs a little patience.

Gradually, Tom’s own worries fade away and he even spends a few minutes looking around the cafeteria, grinning when he sees the smiles on people’s faces as they eat their dessert. One of the housekeeping staff is elbowing the bellman she’s sitting next to and gesturing up at the pass, telling him he needs to try a plate because it’s delicious.

For the first time in months, Tom feels very confident that Jake can do this. Jake can get back into a professional kitchen, go back to the job he loves and he’ll be able to do it without giving in to his OCD every step of the way.

* * *

Once service is done and he, Liying and Tom have helped clean up and brought all their supplies back to the restaurant kitchen and his own room, Jake is so exhausted that he barely manages to put one foot in front of the other. Tom and Liying both keep congratulating him and telling him how great he did, but Jake’s just physically and mentally drained. He doesn’t seem to have the energy to focus on his success or even comprehend that things had gone well because he’s so tired.

Once Liying has left, Tom steers Jake into the bedroom, helps get them both changed and they fall into bed, with Jake curling up against Tom’s chest. He’s asleep in minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recipe Link: [Deconstructed Apple Crumble](https://www.menubarbados.com/recipes/deconstructed-apple-crumble-with-vanilla-and-nutmeg-ice-cream)


	39. Chapter 39

As usual, when Jake wakes up, he feels refreshed and calm. But this time, he hadn’t just plated a few desserts in his own kitchen. This time, he’d plated dozens of desserts in a professional kitchen. Yes, it was the cafeteria but he and Liying had maintained the usual standards that the restaurant would demand. So Jake has officially finished the first service of his entire life without his rulers and without giving in to his OCD. Excitement rushes through him and he grins as he nuzzles Tom’s chest.

“You awake?” Tom asks quietly, rubbing his back.

“I did it,” Jake mumbles. “I finished service and I didn’t have my rulers and I ignored my OCD.”

Tom wraps his arms around his back and gently rolls them over, grinning down at Jake and his eyes sparkling with pride. He kisses Jake hard and rubs their noses together. “I’m so damn proud of you. I know it was tough, but you did such a good job. How are you feeling?”

Jake wraps his arms around Tom’s back and mirrors his grin. “Better. I was exhausted, but now I’m relaxed and very proud of myself. I must have done thirty plates!”

“Yep! And none of them went into the trash and you didn’t redo a single plate.”

“I did redo a bunch of quenelles, but that’s because they weren’t meeting my standards, not because they weren’t the exact same as the others.”

“And that’s perfectly fine. You need to have high standards but they should be your standards, not your OCD’s standards. You did great.”

Sighing happily, Jake kisses Tom some more, his heart full with love for this wonderful man. “Thank you for helping me. I can’t believe you spent the entire day helping me with this.”

“I really love cooking with you, so that’s not a burden. And helping you battle your OCD is never a burden either. I love being there for you and that’s never gonna change.”

Smiling, Jake can’t believe how lucky he is. “I love you. I love you a lot, Tom Carlson.”

That makes Tom’s eyes light up, like it always does when Jake tells him he loves him and he covers Jake’s face in soft kisses. “And I love you too. I’m so damn proud of you. And everybody in the dining room was talking about your dessert and they loved it.”

Jake’s smile grows bigger and the renewed confidence he’d woken up with glows brighter. “I think I can do this. I had my doubts, but I really believe I can do this. It’ll be hard, but things got easier as I got into the rhythm and there’s no reason to think it won’t continue getting easier.”

Tom pulls back and bit and props himself up on his elbows as he stares down at Jake. “That’s something I wanted to talk to you about. Proving to yourself that you can defeat your OCD is important and I think you’ve achieved that. But you don’t have to keep waging this war if you don’t want to. Working in a lower stress environment won’t be giving up. You’ve already won but you don’t have to keep fighting with the OCD every single day.”

Jake smiles softly. “I know. I’m confident that I can beat it now. I may have some slip-ups from time to time, but I know I can succeed because I’ve done it. This isn’t about proving something to myself to anymore. I want to go back to the kitchen because I miss it and I believe I can do it.”

That makes Tom grin and kiss him again. “Okay.”

But that makes Jake pause. Just because he’s happy with how things had gone today, doesn’t mean Liying will want to deal with this during every single service. “But I do need to speak to Liying first and get her opinion. She’ll be on the front line with me night after night, so she gets an equal vote.”

* * *

To Jake’s pleasant surprise, Liying isn’t only willing to put up with Jake re-joining the pastry team, but she’s thrilled about the prospect when he calls her an hour later as he’s sitting out on the balcony and Tom’s working out in the gym.

“You did fantastic during service, Jake! I know it was tough and things were a bit slow at first, but you did it. We can keep practicing together and if we do team plating like we did today, I can help you stay on track.”

“But the point is that you wouldn’t need to make all of these adjustments if you had somebody else up there with you.”

“Yes, but I don’t want somebody else up there with me. I want you back in the kitchen with me. I love how we work together, I love that you respect me, I love your creativity, I love that our standards are exactly the same now. There are a lot of elements that you bring to the kitchen and I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. I know that because I’ve spent the last few months working with somebody else and I loved how today’s service went.”

“So you really wouldn’t mind helping me?”

“Not at all. And I’m sure you’ll get faster and more comfortable the more you practice. If you’re willing to give this a try, I’ll do whatever’s necessary to help.”

Smiling, Jake still can’t believe she cares about him this much. “Alright. I’ll email Chef to ask for my job back."

“You know that’s just a formality, right?”

He chuckles. “I hope so.” Now that the difficult part of their conversation is done, Jake is suddenly hit with the urge to spend more time with Liying. He still likes the idea of growing their friendship more and that means socializing outside of the kitchen too. “By the way, would you and your husband like to come over for dinner one of these days?”

“Oh, we’d love to!”

Jake grins. “Would you mind if Tom’s there?”

“Of course not! Listen, after what I’ve seen today—Tom Carlson is one of my new favorite human beings. I don’t care about his job but that man is obviously head over heels in love with you and that makes him alright in my books. Just please don’t tell my husband what Tom does for a living.”

That makes Jake laugh. “Don’t worry. Tom’s own parents don’t even know and mine didn’t either. He always tells people he’s in sales and then he steers the conversation somewhere else if they get too nosy. He’s very good at it.”

“In that case, I’m looking forward to dinner. Do I get to make requests?”

“Of course.”

“Lamb shank.”

Jake nods. “Alright. Anything else?”

“That’s it. You have complete freedom with the rest of the menu. Just let me know when you and Tom want to come over and we can return the favor.”

“I already know the only request that Tom will have.”

“What is it?”

Jake chuckles. “Chocolate. Chocolate, chocolate, chocolate.”

“And more chocolate?”

“The more the better.” That reminds Jake of something she’d probably enjoying hearing about. “Speaking of chocolate, Tom dreamed up the most horrifying chocolate mousse and macaron monstrosity. Just hearing the details will make your teeth rot.”

She laughs. “I’m dying to hear about it!”

Smiling, Jake relaxes against the deck chair, his mom’s sunglasses shielding his eyes from the sun as the light shines off his dad’s watch and he relaxes, telling Liying about Tom’s dessert idea.

* * *

It’s time for Jake’s first official service back in the restaurant kitchen and he’s a bundle of nerves. Chef Mitra had accepted his application without Jake even having to send in an actual application and Liying and Jake had spent days carefully planning out what the dessert menu will be.

In order to give himself the best possible chance to succeed and get comfortable being back on the line, they decided to only offer two desserts, rather than their usual three.

Their first dessert is a simple one: chocolate mousse served in chocolate bowls. They submerge small water balloons into tempered dark chocolate and once the chocolate has set, they pierce the balloons and gently peel them off, leaving small chocolate bowls behind. Each of them looks different, but like the cake pops, Jake keeps any that pass his standards as being acceptable. They pipe chocolate mousse into them, stick fresh raspberries, blueberries and strawberries on top and cover the plates in chocolate shavings. Despite it being a bit against their usual practices, they decide to plate all the mousse desserts ahead of time and pull them out of the fridge as they’re ordered. That will allow him and Liying to only focus on plating one dessert. They’ll do the plating as a team and if things go sideways, Liying can easily finish service on her own. Over time, Jake wants to go back to their old system of each of them plating separate desserts, since it makes the process faster. But doing team plating is a good way to start things.

But Jake doesn’t like the idea of making something too simplistic. He wants to leave his mark on the service and let everybody know that he’s back in the kitchen, even if he might be a bit slower than previously. Liying is happy to let him take the reins and allows him to create whatever he wants as his new dessert.

After days of thinking, he comes up with the new idea of making a coconut themed dessert that will look like a coconut, but be completely edible. All the components can be made ahead of time, but the plating is complex and will be a true test for Jake.

They make the coconuts by brushing metal half-sphere molds with chocolate and sprinkling them with toasted coconut flakes before letting them set. They use the coconut flesh to make coconut puree and combine that with gelatin and Italian meringue to make a coconut bavarois, which they pipe into the molds. Once they frozen, they remove the fake coconuts from the molds, carve out a small sphere in the center to make it resemble a coconut more and they brush the back with chocolate-laden paintbrushes to give the shells a rougher, more textured look. It blows Tom’s mind the first time he sees the little coconut halves on the counter and he get can’t over the fact that they’re completely edible.

They save the coconut water, freeze it and shave it to make coconut granita that will become a separate component. The remaining coconut flesh gets cut into strips and put aside as another component. They use toasted coconut and coconut oil to make coconut cake, which they soak overnight in in coconut milk. The cake gets cut into small cubes and tossed in toasted coconut flakes. To add some non-coconut elements, they roast pineapple slices in rum caramel and reduce some passion fruit juice. In total, there will be six different components to plate, but Jake feels confident that he can do it. He’ll do three, Liying will do the other three and they’ll switch half way through service.

After a few days of practicing, Jake finally feels ready. Tom is by his side whenever he’s not working and from the pleased smile on his face when Jake is practicing plating all by himself, it seems Tom is also confident about this.

But when Jake’s putting on his chef’s jacket and making sure his dad’s watch is sitting right on his wrist, his nerves come back.

Tom wraps his arms around him and kisses him before pressing his forehead against Jake. “Deep breaths, okay? I know you can do this and so do you. Do one component at a time and focus on that component. Once it’s done, it’s done.”

Jake nods, his jaw clenched as his heart races. “I know what to do. I’m just scared that I’ll freeze and my OCD will take over.”

“You won’t be alone. Liying will be right there next to you. And if you need a break, focus on the chocolate mousse and let Liying take over the coconut dessert. You don’t have to get it perfect on your first night back.”

Drawing in a shaky breath, Jake nods, but he wraps his arms tightly around Tom and clings to him. He desperately wants Tom to come into the kitchen with him, but that wouldn’t be practical and it would be another form of defeat. But letting go of Tom is impossible.

Thankfully, Tom does it for him and gently pulls back, kissing him softly. “You can do this. Forget about the pressure, forget about the people in the dining room. Just treat each plate like you’re here, in your own kitchen. You’ve plated that dish a dozen times already.”

That could work. Nodding, Jake clings to that burst of hope. His throat is too tight with anxiety to respond, but Tom doesn’t look as worried as he did a minutes ago.

“One component at a time and deep breathing. You can do this.” Tom kisses him again. “I love you and no matter what happens, I’m proud of you. Just going back into the kitchen is taking a huge amount of courage. Everything beyond that is an extra accomplishment.”

Jake only manages to nod, then he decides to get going. The longer he stays here with Tom, the more difficult it’ll be to leave. Shaking and feeling as if his feet are made out of lead, Jake turns away from Tom and slowly heads to the door.

As he goes downstairs, he keeps glancing down at his dad’s watch and touching the breast pocket of his jacket, where his rulers used to live. Now, a picture of his parents is sitting there, close to his heart and he thinks about their smiles and how proud they’d be of him right now.

“I can do this,” he whispers to himself, ignoring the strange looks he’s getting from the other people on the elevator. “I’ve done it before and I can do it. Deep breaths. Focus on one component at a time; one plate at a time. If it’s acceptable, move on. Next one. I can do this.”

When he gets down to the kitchen, his heart is still racing and anxious thoughts are crowding his head, doubts, fear and disbelieve that he’s even attempting this all battling for attention.

Thankfully, Liying spies him right away and hurries over to him. “Hey. Come help with the coconut cubes. They’re ready for the toasted coconut covering.”

Jake is really grateful she hadn’t asked him to cut the coconut flesh into strips or do something else that would send his OCD into overdrive. For his first day back, that would be a terrible way to start.

The rest of the kitchen staff all greet him enthusiastically and Jake does his best to put a polite smile on his face and greet them. Unfortunately, he doesn’t know most of their names, but that’s a problem for another day. Chef Mitra also greets him, but her eyes match the worry that’s filling Jake’s heart.

But Liying doesn’t let him dwell on any of that, steering him through the familiar kitchen and putting him in front of a station where the tray of soaking coconut cake cubes are waiting for him. Thankfully, Liying sets herself up right next to him, piping the chocolate mousse into the chocolate bowls.

While his brain is still screeching at him with fears and doubts, Jake forces his hands to start moving, picking up a few cubes at a time, shaking off the excess coconut milk and putting them onto the tray of toasted coconut flakes and rolling them around. Once each one is covered, he transfers them onto a waiting tray and moves on to the next handful.

“You’re doing great,” Liying says quietly. “Keep breathing and focus on the cubes right in front of you. Not the next ones, not the finished ones, just the ones in front of you. You can do it.”

His jaw is still clenched tightly, shivers are running up and down his back and his hands are shaking, but Jake forces himself to keep going. They move through prep, with Liying constantly directing Jake and never letting him out of her sight. It’s a ridiculous inconvenience that would be unacceptable for anybody else in Jake’s position, but he’s very grateful for it.

Chef Mitra is also keeping a close eye on them and she doesn’t say anything about Jake staying quiet and only doing what Liying tells him to do, so he hopes she’s alright with the arrangement. He hopes he’ll relax and get his confidence back as things improve, but he’s barely hanging on right now.

Once prep is done and service starts, Jake and Liying get themselves set up at their plating stations.

“You’re doing the pineapple, the coconut cake cubes and the coconut strips. I’ll do the passion fruit, the coconut and the granita. I’ll handle the chocolate mousse.”

Jake nods. “Yes, Chef.”

As they wait for the first orders to come in, Jake keeps trying to calm his breathing and reminds himself that Tom was fully confident that he could do this. He keeps repeating Tom’s advice over and over in his head, thinking about what Tom would say if he were here with him.

Finally, Chef Mitra calls out familiar words. “Chef Huang, Chef Seever, you’re up! Order for Table 4; two chocolate mousse, one coconut.”

Involuntarily, Jake responds as Liying’s voice echoes alongside his. “Yes, Chef.”

With shaking hands, Jake pulls a white plate close to him. Instead of getting the pineapple, he’s staring down at the white plate. It’s taunting him. It’s telling him how perfect and pure it currently is and how Jake’s going to turn it into a disaster. He needs his rulers. He’ll be making horrible, disgusting desserts and the diners in the restaurant deserve perfection. They deserve—

“Jake? Focus. Take a deep breath and do the first component.”

Liying’s voice breaks into his swirling thoughts and he takes a choked breath and briefly squeezes his eyes shut. Stop it, stop it, stop it! He can do this. He’s plated this dessert a dozen times. It’ll look beautiful and it’ll be meeting the standards of the restaurant. Let’s go, Jake! Come on!

Reaching for the plastic tongs in the container with the pineapples, he pulls out a piece and lets the rum caramel sauce drip off it before putting it on in the center of the plate. Before that voice can erupt, telling him it’s not in the very center and that’s awful, awful, awful, Jake pulls the tray of coconut cubes closer and gently picks up one of them. He carefully puts it down next to the pineapple, then he goes back for the second one and also puts it next to the pineapple, putting the cubes close enough that they’ll provide a solid base for the coconut chocolate shell that Liying will put on top.

He hates that he hadn’t measured the exact placement of the cubes, but he firmly reminds himself that he’s happy with how they look and Tom would tell him to keep going. Picking up the small container with the coconut strips, he takes out the small tweezers and picks up one of the pieces and gently puts it on top of the pineapple. The second and third pieces also get added, but Jake refuses to let himself put them in the exact same orientation or at the same distance from the first one. They might be different, but they look acceptable and despite his OCD screaming in his head that it’s not right, it’s horrible, it belongs in the trash, Jake ignores that voice and pushes the plate over to Liying.

“Good job, Jake! You did it!” she says quietly, sounding thrilled.

Somehow, two chocolate mousse plates have appeared next to Jake without him being aware of it and Liying quickly finishes plating the coconut dessert and grabs the plate. “Bring the mousse.”

Jake picks up the plates and follows Liying up to the pass.

“Chef, desserts for Table 4,” Liying says, sliding her plate onto the pass in front of Chef Mitra. Jake hurries to put the cool chocolate mousse plates down next to them.

Chef Mitra glances over the three plates and smiles. “Good.”

Jake is stunned as he stands there. Each of the coconut strips had been completely different from each other! Yet, Chef Mitra says they’re good. The plate passed Chef’s standards, which means Jake was right and Tom was right and he can do this. Jake can absolutely do this.

“Thank you, Chef,” Jake breathes out, smiling as he follows Liying back to their station.

She’s grinning too. “You see? You finished your first plate and it was perfect! No ruler, no fussing, no giving in and you did it!”

“Chef Huang, Chef Seever, next order! Table 11, two coconut.”

Feeling a little more confident than before, Jake takes a new plate off the stack. “Yes, Chef!”

Grabbing the pineapple, he puts it into the center of the plate. It’s slight off center, but with a quick nudge of the tongs, Jake’s happy with the placement and he uses a cloth to wipe the streak of caramel off from where he’d pushed it. But he doesn’t need to measure it. It doesn’t have to be in the exact center of the plate and it’ll still be meeting Jake’s and Chef’s standards.

Smiling despite still shaking, Jake takes out a coconut cake cube and puts it next to the pineapple. It’s not in the exact same place as the previous one, but that’s okay. The previous plate doesn’t matter. It’s gone, it’s done, it’s in the past. Just this plate matter. Let’s go!

Gradually, Jake feels himself speeding up. Every plate they finish is met with Chef’s approval, which makes Jake’s confidence grow more and more. He settles into the rhythm and he doesn’t allow himself to think about previous plates or the next plate. Only the plate he’s currently working on matters and only his own standards matter. Not his OCD’s standards.

Half-way through service, Liying grins at him. “Do you want to switch? We don’t have to, but it would be good practice.”

Jake’s a bit worried because putting the shaved ice on top of the coconut and putting small spoonfuls of passion fruit juice on the plate will be even more impossible to precisely replicate plate to plate as the components he’s been doing up to now, but he wants to try. “I’d like to try. I’m feeling very good.”

“You’re doing great. Okay, let’s switch.”

Balancing the chocolate coconut on top of the coconut cubes isn’t hard, but putting a spoonful of shaved coconut water onto the coconut quarter and watching some of the shavings tumble off and land on the other components below is difficult, but Jake constantly reminds himself to decide if it looks acceptable or not. In most cases, it does, so he moves on to put a few dribbles of passion fruit juice next to the pineapple, then it’s ready for the pass.

He moves methodically, focusing on each plate as he’s doing them. Nothing else exists in his world, only the plate he’s currently working on. But as service progresses, he finds himself getting more confident and that screeching, annoyed voice in his head slowly fades until it only flares up at certain times. At one point, Jake even feels confident enough to grab the chocolate mousse plates from the fridge himself. Up to then, Liying had been grabbing the plates quickly before starting the coconut, but that’s inefficient and a bad division of labor.

To Jake’s surprise and relief, adding the extra complication of grabbing the chocolate mousse plates from the fridge doesn’t throw him off. He grabs the plates, puts them next to Liying and waits for her to slide her plate over to him so he can finish plating before they carry everything up to the pass.

By the time service ends, Jake is thrilled, but also exhausted. He’s not quite as tired as he was after the cafeteria service, but he’s still much more tired than he usually is during service. He helps clear down and prep for tomorrow, but then he’s done.

After Liying’s done showering him with praise and he’s thanked her a million times for her help, Chef Mitra asks Jake to come into the office with her for a moment. That makes Jake’s alarm bells start ringing, but Chef is smiling softly and she looks pleased. Once they’re in her office, she wastes no time getting to the point.

“You did very well today, Jake. I’m very happy with what I saw today. Your arrangement with Chef Huang is unusual, but I have no complaints. The two of you worked very well together today and I’m thrilled with the quality of dishes that were coming out of your station today.”

Jake grins, his heart glowing despite how tired he is. “Thank you, Chef. That means a lot to me.”

“Welcome back to the team, Jake.”

“Thank you!”

Jake feels like he’s floating on air as he rushes out of the office, through the lobby, onto the elevator and rides up to his floor. He stares down at his dad’s watch and pulls out the picture of his parents from his pocket. “I did it!” He tells their smiling faces and he knows they’re as proud of him as he is.

When he’s off the elevator, he goes rushing down the hallway and nearly drops his key card in his hurry to get the door open. As soon as he’s inside, Tom’s rushing towards him, his eyes huge. Jake knows he’s worried and doesn’t want to presume anything, but Jake’s grin widens even more and that makes Tom smile too. “I did it! It was hard, but I did it!”

Tom lets out a relieved laugh and grabs him, holding him tight and jostling him around. “I’m so damn proud of you! Oh, my God…I can’t—you’re amazing!”

Jake clutches the back of Tom’s shirt and buries his face in Tom’s neck, melting against his familiar warmth and loving being in his arms again. Despite how much he loves being in a kitchen, this will always be his favorite place in the world.

Pulling back, Jake grins at him. “It went so well! It was difficult, but I pushed through and Liying was amazing. We even did the switch and it went well. And Chef was very pleased. Every single plate went out and she told she’s happy with the way I did.”

Tom kisses him hard, his smile just as bright as Jake’s. “I’m so proud of you.”

His eyes are starting to drop shut from exhaustion and Jake rests his forehead against Tom’s, but there’s something he needs to say before he falls asleep. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“I wasn’t in that kitchen with you, Jake. That was all you. Liying helped a little, but it was all you.”

Jake shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant. A few months ago, you broke in here and found me starving, filthy and close to dying. I was obsessed with carving lines on my wall. Not only would I have died, but there’s no way I would have gotten to where I am right now without your help.”

Tom smiles softly and rubs his back. “It’s been worth every hard minute, I promise.”

Jake can’t believe that just a few months ago, he’d woken up in the middle of the night and obsessively drawn line after line on a piece of paper and that had made him feel proud. His ruler and his OCD had controlled his entire life. That’s what his life had sunken to due to his illness. Now, he just finished working a shift in a professional kitchen at a high-end restaurant and he hadn’t used his ruler and he’d produced dishes that everybody had been happy with. Finally, he’s back to doing things that he’s truly proud of. More importantly, he’s back to having control of his own life.

Grinning at Tom, Jake slumps against him. “I’m so happy.”

Chuckling, Tom kisses his neck. “I’m glad. You deserve every second of this. It’s been a long road.”

“But I’m also very tired and I’m going to fall asleep right here,” Jake mumbles.

Tom laughs and gently untangles himself from Jake and takes him by the hand, leading him to their bedroom. “Come on, Chef. Let’s get you into bed.”

* * *

Sitting out on the balcony with his mom’s sunglasses protecting his eyes from the sun, Jake is scribbling on a pad, planning out this month’s special panna cotta dessert.

Tom’s dozing on the sun chair next to him, enjoying the sun before he has to go prep for his client. They’d spent the morning with Chesa, eating the desserts Jake had brought up from the restaurant the night before and playing cards. Now, they’re both relaxing before it’s time to go to work.

Being back in the kitchen full time has been exhausting and not without its ups and downs. Dealing with his OCD is still a daily struggle and Liying often has to help him do team plating so they can stay on track. But every single day, it’s getting a little easier and Jake loves making himself and the people he loves proud of him. Wearing his dad’s watch and having his parents’ photo with him also helps keep him focused and gives him strength.

To honor his parents, Jake creates a special panna cotta dessert every month. The panna cotta element is for his mom, and he always adds some technical, creative element that his dad would have loved. For this round, Jake’s going to make mandarin gelee discs that he’ll stick onto the inside of the glasses that he’ll fill with panna cotta. The white panna cotta will make a fantastic contrast with the bright orange colored gelee discs and the effect will hopefully look interesting. He’s busy deciding on what toppings to put on top of the panna cotta when Tom lets out a groan and stretches.

Jake grins. “Good morning.”

“I’m way too comfortable to move,” Tom mumbles.

Chuckling, Jake puts down his pad and stands up, stepping over to Tom’s chair and straddling his waist, rubbing his chest through his shirt. “That works well for me, but it won’t work very well for your client.”

Tom grins at him. “They’ll have to deal with it. I think I’m getting old.”

Jake snorts. “We’re not even thirty yet.”

“Whatever. People in my profession age out of it fast.”

Sliding his arms around Tom’s neck, Jake plasters himself against his chest as Tom wraps his arms around Jake’s back. “Don’t worry about it. Once you retire, we’ll find you something new to do.”

Tom nuzzles the top of Jake’s head. “I was actually thinking about that. When I retire and once you’re tired of being in the restaurant, we could open a little pastry shop together.”

Grinning, Jake rubs his nose against Tom’s chest, already loving that idea. Contrary to expectations, Jake loves being around Tom more and more every single day. Being around him while working would be a dream come true. “It would be a French patisserie. No doughnuts or other obnoxious, ugly desserts.”

Tom laughs. “No, no. We’d only have beautiful desserts that we’ll charge ridiculous prices for. You’ll do the baking and I’ll deal with the customers.”

Jake sighs happily. “That’ll be perfect.”

Tom rubs his back. “Things are already pretty damn perfect, so I don’t know how I’ll handle things being even more perfect.”

Smiling, Jake relaxes against Tom. “I’m not worried about your ability to handle it.”

Squeezing him hard, Tom kisses the top of his head. “This is why we’re a perfect team.”

Grinning as his heart glows, Jake lets out a long breath. It’s amazing how much his definition of perfection has changed since meeting Tom. His current definition is making him a lot happier than the old one ever did and Jake never wants that to change. “I agree with you.”

“Oh, good. Does this mean I get an extra dessert tonight?”

Jake chuckles. “Of course.” Then he closes his eyes and lets himself bask in Tom’s hug and the sunshine warming his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recipe Links: [Edible Coconut Dessert](https://youtu.be/Lwq2WfpY-ss) and [Panna Cota with Mandarin Gelee](https://www.facebook.com/antonio.bachour/posts/1789289737809250:0)


End file.
